


Go Down Together

by WeBuiltThePyramids



Series: Afterward [4]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Quintis - Freeform, Waige - Freeform, callie - Freeform, fly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 45,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeBuiltThePyramids/pseuds/WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: Post "Nicole's Official Unofficial Season Five," "What Is This Feeling?" and "A Conflict of Parallels."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I was planning to wait longer to start publishing this, but it turns out writing, editing, and publishing/reading reviews helps my depression, so here we are. (Updates will be slower than they were for some of my other fics, though: I do still have reading to catch up on.)
> 
> This is part four. Part one being Nicole's Official Unofficial Season Five, part two being What Is This Feeling, and part three being A Conflict of Parallels. This is the last installment of what I'm calling the Afterward series. It will be fairly lengthy, though probably not as long as part three (since that was supposed to be a standalone, HA). This first chapter is a prologue of sorts, setting up a couple themes of the fic, but there will be much more than is alluded to here.
> 
> Like I said during the start of ACOP, I want to ask that you guys trust me. There will be drama in this fic. There will be moments where you might not be sure where I'm going. I don't want to give specific content warnings due to the spoilers they would reveal, but if there is anything that you don't think you can handle reading, please send me a private message and I can tell you if any content of this fic aligns with your concerns. I don't want to trigger anyone. But what I can say up front is this fic will have a (very) happy ending. None of the core couples break up, and none of our canon characters + children of those characters that I've created will die. But that doesn't mean there won't be angst.

"Florence," Walter said, looking up from the paperwork on his desk, "what color is your alphabet?"

She paused with her hand on the coat rack, turning slowly to face him. She was hungry, dinner was waiting at home, and she had been at work all afternoon. She had basically zoned out. "What?"

"Your alphabet. When you picture it in your head." Walter leaned back in his chair, his hands folded neatly on his stomach. "Mine is like red to blue, like with light and wavelengths. A is red, Z is blue, the colors in between slowly shift from the one end to the other."

She let go of her coat and walked toward him. "So like A is totally read, B is slightly less red than A, C is slightly less red than B, until you get to Z, which is totally blue?"

"Yes. Although at the middle of the alphabet, it isn't purple, it's more like tiny alternating lines of color running vertically, red, blue, red, blue."

"Interesting."

"What is yours?"

Florence thought. It was hard for her to describe it when asked, although the pictures were always clear when they came to her naturally. "I think it's kinda like yours, only per letter. The left side of the A is red, the right side is black. Same for B. It's like a gradient that goes across, but each letter has the complete effect."

Walter nodded.

"Why?"

Walter was quiet, looking away. Years ago, she would have thought he was simply breaking eye contact, and that did seem to be what he intended her to think, but her years with Sylvester, Paige, Toby, and Cabe had made her more perceptive. He had subconsciously glanced toward Paige's desk.

Florence tipped her head slightly to the side. "Amber?"

There was a long silence before Walter nodded and sighed. "I was trying to teach her the alphabet. I know she's still too young to really retain it but…you know…" he made a motion with his hand. "Exposure."

"Sure. Sure." Florence smoothed down the front of her sweater. Paige was in New Jersey visiting her mother, and while Walter had shown no outward anxiety over parenting their daughter alone – "I'm just as much her parent as Paige is, I can manage" – she knew that neither of them liked being apart for more than a day or so, and that feeling had only magnified once little Amber was born.

"We have those little magnetic letters, you know, the kind you can put on your fridge? They're red, yellow, blue, and green. And I was pointing to them and singing her that alphabet song." Walter paused. "She started crying. She kept pointing to the letters and trying to rearrange them and got…upset when I told her that that wasn't right. At first I tried to keep it light hearted, you know, made a joke about how my voice isn't as pretty as Mom's but she just had to work with me. But…" he shrugged. "Maybe she's just too young, still. I asked Happy and Toby to not do any of that with her today, just let her play. They've got their hands full enough with Tad wanting to learn everything under the sun, so I think they were glad of that."

Florence chuckled. "You'll have fun with that when you get the three of them tomorrow. Amber not wanting to learn, Tad wanting to know everything  _right now_ , and Ellie asking for a cat practically every time she opens her mouth. You might be on to something, though, with yours" Florence said. "I mean, if you're thinking that she might just see the alphabet differently in her head and she can't grasp it if it's laid out differently. Like how in my head, the alphabet is on a straight line A through M, then the rest of it is also in a straight line but like, a step down? So if you're writing it out, A through M is straight, then the bottom of the M would be in line with the top of the N."

"Mine is just down, like a list. A at the top, Z at the bottom."

Florence nodded, her hands tugging mindlessly at the bottom of her top. "So maybe she just needs to see it a certain way."

Walter's jaw shifted side to side. "I know it's probably not a big deal. But I've been staring at these forms for most of the morning and they're what I need to focus on, but my mind is…somewhere else."

"I know what you mean. I swear I've been so preoccupied lately. What are you working on?"

Walter sighed. "Paige doesn't want me telling anyone until it's official. But basically…" he glanced at the papers. "Basically, Scorpion has been contacted by the CEO of a major corporation. He wants to donate the majority of his salary to…" he looked at the papers again for the exact wording, "to 'scientifically driven independent humanitarians.' Thanks to our recent work in Haiti, Colombia, Syria, and the Ukraine, he considers us humanitarians, and due to Cabe's…situation…we're no longer associated with the government. He wants to meet with us in D.C. in the next couple of months to see if we might be the company he donates to."

Florence's eyes widened. "How much are we talking? Sorry," she said when she noticed how uncomfortable he looked. "I know Paige said…"

"She just doesn't want anyone to get their hopes up," Walter said. "We're talking…a lot. That's all I really can say. Enough to help us improve our transportation, our equipment…it would mean a lot less of Happy needing to fix something in a pinch, it would mean we're better equipped on  _any_  mission we go on. We could change so many lives." He tapped the stack of papers. "He says he has ten organizations in mine. He's going to invite the top three to meet with him, once he determines who the top three are. But Paige…she's talked to him on the phone and she would know this more than me…she says he seemed very confident that Scorpion would be a finalist."

"That's incredible!" Florence grinned. "I won't tell anyone. Promise."

"Not even your husband," Walter said.

"What husband?" Florence shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Walter rolled his eyes. "You should probably refresh your memory before the baby comes."

Florence froze, then opened her mouth to say something along the lines of  _I don't know what you're talking about_. But she changed her mind. It wasn't like it was going away. "How did you know?"

Walter was already looking back at the stack of papers, lifting one he was finished with and setting it on a smaller pile on the side. "Food is disappearing from the fridge at an increased rate, you admit you've been distracted, and you keep touching around your abdomen. Just like that," he said pointedly when his looking back up at her coincided with her setting her hand flat over her belly button. "Plus your face is redder than Mars right now. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Promise." He looked back down at the materials on his desk, then glanced back up at her almost immediately. "Sylvester… _Sylvester_  knows, right?"

"Of course Sylvester knows. But we just…we wanted to wait a little. We didn't start trying until later than we thought we would and then it took a little bit and…"  _For a little while we almost didn't believe it was real._

"How long?"

"I'm twelve weeks day after tomorrow."

"Congratulations."

She gave a small smile. "Thanks. We're going to tell everyone soon. We just…" She glanced down, her smile growing ever so slightly. She wasn't showing. She looked no different. But something  _was_  different. She didn't think she would ever get tired of the rush that that knowledge gave her. "We wanted it to be our little secret for a while."

"Hmm." Walter nodded. "Well. Don't tell anyone about this, and I won't tell anyone about that."

"Sounds like a deal to me." She gave him a playful smirk. "Sure you wanna be involved in another lie to Paige with me?"

"I think she'll understand."


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay," Walter said, reappearing in the living room and making sure to stand exactly where he had been, "Ms. Dog is hidden somewhere in the house. You can uncover your eyes now."

Amber removed her hands and giggled, wiggling off the couch and immediately going to look under it.

"Nope," Walter said. "Very cold. Ice cold."

Amber got up, heading toward the hallway down to the bedrooms.

"Getting warmer. Thawing out."

Amber put her hand on the first door. Ralph's bedroom, when he was around. "It's cold in there," Walter said.

Amber abandoned the door and headed across the hall, pushing the bathroom door open. "Ms. Dog, Ms. Dog…"

"Slightly warmer," Walter said, "but not warm enough."

Amber checked the lower cupboards and shower before leaving the bathroom and heading to the next door down the hallway, her room.

"Oh, oh," Walter said. "Be careful. You could scald yourself in there."

Amber stopped, looking at him in alarm.

"Warmer," Walter said quickly. "You're getting warmer. Ohhhhh even warmer," he added when she headed toward her bed. "Colder," he amended when she dropped to her knees and peered underneath. Amber turned toward her nightstand. "It's warmer that way."

Amber gasped in surprise and delight when she opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and pulled a worn stuffed animal. "Ms. Dog! I found you!"

"You found her!" Walter said, throwing up his hands in celebration. "Smart girl."

Amber grinned. "Play again?"

Walter was about to say yes, then he heard a sound coming from the front door. "Why don't you go into the kitchen?" He said, mussing her hair. "There's a surprise about to arrive."

Father and daughter got back into the living area just seconds after the door opened, giving the arrival just enough time to set her bags down before the little girl zipped across the room.

"Mama! Mama!" Amber ran to Paige, bouncing in excitement. "You're home!"

"I am, sweet girl," Paige said, bending and lifting the toddler into her arms. "Oh, I missed you so much, my love."

"I missed  _you_ , Mama," Amber said, her arms around Paige's neck.

"Oh, I love these hugs," Paige murmured, almost to herself. She readjusted Amber so she could look at her face. "Were you a good girl for Daddy?"

"Yes. Not good for Uncle Toby."

Paige gave her an incredulous look, then a little laugh escaped her. "What do you mean you weren't good for Uncle Toby?"

Amber shrugged. "I was a brat."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Yes. But I knowed it already."

"Hmmm. We may have to talk about that later. But for now I'm just so so happy to see your face. Give me a kiss? Thank you," she said when Amber bumped her lips briefly against her mother's. "I'm gonna put you down now and say hi to Daddy, okay?"

"Okay."

Paige turned to Walter, who grinned as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Hey, Love," he said. "Good to see you. How was your flight?"

"So bumpy I would have almost rather driven if it wouldn't have been a massive time suck."

"Road trip from New Jersey to California?" Walter said. "Some would find that a lot of fun."

"Yeah, well I am neither a childless twenty something nor do I have a travel themed Instagram," Paige said. "I'll take the flying, turbulent as it may be. Hey Amber." She hunkered down. "Guess how many people threw up on my flight?"

"Eleventy twelve?"

"No." Paige raised a hand, lifting each finger as she counted. "One, two, three,  _four_. Four people on the plane."

"Eeeew!" Amber said, wrinkling her nose and giggling. "Did you throw up?"

"Nope," Paige said. "Not even a teeny weenie little bit."

"Good," Amber said. "Throwing up is gross."

"That it is." Paige straightened up. "Can you put on a movie for her?"

"Would you like to watch a movie while Mom and I go to our room?" Walter asked.

"Frozen 3!" Amber said, running toward the living area. "Frozen 3!"

"She has watched that movie at least twice a day since you left," Walter said under his breath. "If I have to see Oleg's tap dancing showmen babies one more time…"

"It's Olaf," Paige said, "and you aren't watching it. You're coming with me. Anything to keep her occupied."

"Fair. They're making a fourth one, though. They're never going to stop, Paige."

"Let's worry about that another time, huh?"

"Mmmm." Paige smiled, picking up her bags, and Walter headed over to the television set. "Okay Amber, are you ready? Sit on the couch with Ms. Dog, and be sure to sing along, okay?"

By the time he got the movie playing and made sure that Amber was well occupied with it, Paige had already unpacked her suitcase and was laying flat on her back on her side of the bed. Walter shut the door and crossed the room to his side, settling on the mattress on his side. "You usually leave everything packed until you've had some sleep."

"Yeah. But there's a lot to do tomorrow and I know I'm going to want to hit snooze like seventy times in the morning."

"How's your mother?"

"She's doing okay. Adapting to life with only one real hip. I still worry about her some, alone in that house. But she's managed to convince me that she's managing just fine. And she does have a neighbor that checks in on her once a day."

"That's good. That's good."

"I also managed to talk to Mr. Yates," Paige said. "In person."

"Oh." Walter raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that it was just going to be a call."

"As was I. But his plane got rerouted to Newark with the weather out there, and he offered to meet me in the middle. Highlands are only about an hour from that airport, so I agreed."

"And how did it go?"

"Well, I think. He'd heard of Scorpion before – largely the rescue of Owen at the beach and our work at Chernobyl. But I told him about some of our other jobs – he was particularly fascinated by the womb we used on that premature deer, by the way – and he said that the more he learns about Scorpion, the more he thinks we could change the world with proper funding. And if I may say so, I think we're changing the world without it, so…having that money would be life changing for so many more people."

"We certainly could do a lot with it," Walter said. "Would we have full control over the funds?"

"As long as they were for bettering science, technology, and the standard of living, yes," Paige said, rolling from her back to her side, facing him. "He wants to meet more of us."

"When? And where?"

"In D.C., and he's going to get back to me on when. He is off on a trip to Egypt for at least a month."

"To meet with a competitor?"

"Oh, no," Paige said. "His daughter is getting married, and she chose Luxor because her twin lives there and is due to have twins of her own shortly after the wedding."

"Ah." Walter nodded. "Well, we will keep in touch."

"Yes. I feel good about it."

"Few are more persuasive than you."

"Hmm. How were things here? You always said they were good on the phone, but…"

"Things were good. No major cases came up. Happy and Florence were more than capable of handling that business in Burbank by themselves."

"I mean with Amber."

"Things were…fine." Walter nodded slowly. "She's still getting frustrated with the alphabet and remembering new words, but…"

"But she's two. We have to be patient with her."

"I know. It's just the way she gets frustrated. It's like she's convinced that I'm telling her the wrong thing. She tried to rearrange the alphabet letters in the order of A, K, S, Y, D, P, B, R, N…"

"You remember that order?"

"Eidetic memory, remember?"

"Of course." Paige nodded. "Did she put them in that order more than once?"

"Once she switched the S and the K," Walter said, "but she was absolutely convinced I was doing it wrong when I put them back."

"She's still a baby, Walter. It'll be okay. Ralph's father and I thought he was learning too slowly, and well, we were totally wrong about him."

"Two year olds can sing their ABCs. I'm not expecting her to be advanced."

"I'm not trying to invalidate your concerns," Paige said. "I'm only saying give her time. She walked and talked right with the average. Let's not get too caught up in her being confused about the alphabet. Okay?"

"Okay. You're right." He smiled. "I missed you. Don't go away for that long again."

She rolled her eyes, but she could tell she wasn't actually annoyed. "Walter, it was just a few days."

"I know. But…" He reached out and took her hand. "You know."

She tightened her fingers around his. "Yeah, I know. Me too."


	3. Chapter 3

Paige always knew when Tad's class had gone outside for some hands – on learning, because that made the boy stressed and tired when he arrived at the garage. He liked being outside on his own terms, but putting a structured educational aspect to it drained him of his otherwise seemingly infinite vault of energy. So, despite being "too old" for an after – school nap, Team Scorpion let him sleep.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, slowly rubbing Tad's back to help him relax and drift off.

" _And when he smiles he makes the sun shine._

_He wouldn't think to make it rain._

_Happiness runs in the family; he's a boy from the good old Earth and the high tree forest._

_And he's just about the happiest boy that I ever knew."_

Paige was nearly twenty years removed from when she thought she might be able to make a career in singing, but she'd spent the past six years lulling children to sleep this way, and she was so, so grateful that this was the primary way she used her voice. She couldn't think of anything better than this.

" _And when he smiles he makes me sigh._

_He doesn't have a point of view._

_Happiness runs in the family; he's a boy from the good old Earth and the high tree forest._

_And he's just about the happiest boy that I ever knew."_

She could tell by Tad's breathing that he had fallen asleep, but she finished the song before leaning over and gently kissing the top of his head. She rose slowly, expertly avoiding any squeaky floorboards as she made her way out of the loft and back down the stairs. With any luck, he would wake up rejuvenated and ready to play with his sister when she and their parents got home from the preschool parent night they were currently attending.

The giggles of her daughter were a welcome soundtrack to her arrival on the main floor. Amber was in her octagonal playpen – a large, toddler sized one that Happy had made for Tad – amusing herself with the pull back car that Richard Elia had given her as a gift after, as Walter put it, Team Scorpion had "saved his ass yet again."

"Is that fun, baby girl?" Paige asked.

"Look!" Amber released the car, shrieking in delight when it crashed into the wall of the playpen. "It just goes!"

"Physics," Paige said, leaning over and putting her hands on her knees. "It's physics."

Amber frowned. "It's a car."

"Yes. The car is what goes forward, and physics is what makes the car go forward."

"I make the car go forward."

Paige nodded. "Physics is the science thing that means you can make it go forward."

Amber stared at her blankly.

"You'll understand when you're older, baby."

Amber put the car down and picked up a ball. "One, two, eight!" She shouted as she threw the ball over the playpen.

Paige scampered to pick it up. "One, two,  _three_ ," she said, returning to her daughter. "It's one, two, three." She tossed the ball back inside.

"One, two,  _eight_!" The ball flew back out.

Paige laughed. " _No_ , Amber." She poised herself as if she was going to shoot into a basket. "One…two…three!"

"One…two…"

"Three."

"EIGHT."

"I swear, child," Paige said, managing to catch the ball this time.

"I'm a funny lady."

"That you are," Paige said, smiling.

"Mommy?"

"Baby?"

Amber grabbed the top of her pen with both hands. "Can I have music?"

Paige hunted around for the kid radio and handed it to her daughter. "Now when Daddy gets here, he and I have some things to discuss. So you can play this, but try to keep it down, okay?"

"Okay."

"At least I said it," Paige muttered under her breath as she headed toward the door, having heard Walter's car pulling up.

"Hey," Walter said, grinning at her as he entered the garage. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, hugging him. "Did you get the message that we're watching Tad until later?"

"I did. My phone has not stopped working."

"Walter."

"Sorry." He shook his head. "I don't do that too often anymore."

"I have some more news about our potential windfall," Paige said. "If you're interested in hearing about it."

"Naturally I am." Walter crossed the room to the play pen, where Amber was standing on her tip toes looking up at him. "Hey, Ambie."

"Daddy," she said, dragging out the Y. Walter leaned down and hugged her. "How was work?"

Walter chuckled. "I wasn't at work, you goof."

Amber looked surprised. "But where were you?"

"Wow, I'm getting the third degree here," Walter said, looking at Paige in amusement. "I was out running errands for home. Mama was the one at work today."

"Why?"

"Because we live in a feminist society," Walter said, so casually Paige had to stifle a laugh.

"What's a minist society?"

"Something you'll appreciate when you're older," Walter said. "Now you play with your toys while Mama and I talk, okay?"

"I have the radio." Amber picked it up and showed him.

"Oh, excellent. Play with the radio." Walter straightened up and looked at Paige. "Talk upstairs?"

"Tad's sleeping up there."

"Right. Well, I suppose…" he gestured around the space.

"We're good to talk here, yeah," Paige said. "I got a little more information today. Not much, but I'd say any information is helpful. Of course, the other people got the same information, but…"

"Do we know who the main competitors are?"

Paige grinned, pleased to be able to reveal that information. "That. We. Do."

Walter hiked himself up onto his desk. "Lay it on me."

"I wish I could," she said, "but our child is right there."

Walter stared at her blankly. She giggled. "That was a – "

" _Oh_ ," he said. She saw his cheeks pink up slightly. "Right. Got it. Ha, yeah. Anyway."

"Anyway." Paige took out her phone and pulled up the e-mail app. "Doo de doo…okay, here it is. So first on this list is Steven Royce."

"I've heard of him. He's the…the…" Walter snapped his fingers. "The law cop."

Paige raised her eyebrows. "Attorney?"

Walter nodded, snapping his fingers again. "Yes. That's the word I was looking for."

"Yeah, so he's on here, I think because of the type of clients he's been taking on recently. Then we have someone named Chana Wolowitz, who I hadn't heard of but a Google search showed she has done quite a few exciting things on the East Coast in green chem over the past few years."

"Green chem," Walter said. "That's certainly a field this benefactor would be interested in."

"I agree. Next on the list is Thomas Beek. He's working on agricultural improvements in Cambodia."

"Are we sure he isn't working on ornithological improvements in Cambodia?"

"Is this because his last name is Beek?"

"Yes."

"Nice. But no." Paige scrolled. "Next is us…I'm just realizing this isn't in alphabetical order…okay, so there's also a company that I can't pronounce, they appear to be Polish, and they're working on prosthetic limbs. And last on the list is Marcie Lucas. I know of her. She won the Judith A. Resnik Award the second year after they reinstated it."

"Isn't…isn't that award about Space Engineering? What relevance does that have to do with humanitarian work?"

"Helping make the world a better place is subjective," Paige said. "Sally Ride is most well known for her space travels, but she did a lot to encourage children to pursue the sciences."

"I…was going to say that space technology can be adapted for practical every day use on Earth," Walter said, "but hey, your thing works too."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so a lot going on here. A lot of good people."

"Agreed."

"I don't want to call it a competition," Paige said slowly.

"Anyone who gets this money will do good things with it. The planet will benefit greatly."

"That it will."

They fell silent, looking at each other. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Walter asked after a moment.

"That technically it  _is_  a competition and we're gonna win?"

"Exacly."

They high fived. "We'll tell the team at the meeting tomorrow, sound good?" she asked.

"Sounds good."

Paige grinned, kissing him quickly. "I'm excited. We're going to change the world."

* * *

"And smile!"

"I can't in good conscience smile knowing that we're being deceitful."

"Florence, in ten years neither of us are going to remember that we took this one day late, and no one else is ever going to know."

"Two counterpoints," she said, holding up two fingers. "One, no one will be looking at these in ten years because no one looks at these ten  _days_  after a baby is born, and two, if anyone does, it will be us, and both of us will remember that I was technically past the twelve – week mark when we took the twelve – week photo. Florence smoothed down the front of her sweater. "But we'll let this be a learning experience. We certainly won't be late any other weeks."

"Oh, this is a cute one. I like it." Sylvester was smiling at the camera.

Florence cocked her head. "You didn't take it yet."

"Oh," Sylvester said with a grin, "but I did."

He showed her the display. She was standing in the spot, a small grin on her face, throwing up a peace sign…no, that was her putting up the two fingers to argue that they would always know the photo was taken a day late. She rolled her eyes. "I hate you."

"You love me, and you also agree the photo is cute because I saw your smile when you looked at it."

"Fine. I love it. I look adorable. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"That. And maybe that you think it's time for us to tell people."

"You think it is?"

He shrugged. "I mean, you were twelve weeks yesterday, meaning we are officially out of the first trimester." His eyes widened. "Oh my God, this is a second trimester pregnancy."

"Damn," Florence said, the realization hitting her. She grinned. "Okay. Yes. I want to tell people. I want to tell everyone." She hugged him, sighing when he ran his fingers through her hair. "I've loved keeping it between us. But I want to tell people."

"Same here," he said. "On both accounts. How do you want to do it? At the meeting tomorrow? Or individually?"

"Those are always boring meetings," Florence said. "They'll be grateful for us to bring something interesting to the table."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't that I have writer's block. I know exactly where this is going. It's more like I'm busy, and then when I sit down to write, I get so damn tired.
> 
> But I am about two hundred steps away from getting health insurance back (I started a million steps away so this is good progress) and maybe once I have regular medication again I'll be able to write more frequently. I hope so.
> 
> Also any of you not watching The Good Place please watch it so I'll have readers for my Good Place fic. ;)

"Alright," Paige said. "We're all here, and so that means I'm officially calling the Team Scorpion board meeting to order."

"I have some new business," Toby said, raising his hand. "This whole meeting concept is stupid. We can have conversations at our desks like we used to."

Paige kept the same smile on her face. "A board meeting setting increases attention span and productivity."

"Can we not call it board meeting, though?" Sylvester asked. "It makes it sound like an episode of  _The Apprentice._ "

" _The Apprentice_  did not invent the term 'board meeting'," Paige said, the smile still present, but notably forced. "May we proceed to the point, please?"

"I think we should let Paige get to the point," Walter said.

"Buddy, you're already getting laid consistently, you don't have to pretend you like this boardroom idea."

"I'm insulted that you would think that I would not naturally be in favor of something that should increase efficiency." Walter stood and put an arm around Paige's waist. "And I'm also insulted that you think I would not stand up for Paige simply because she has a good idea."

"Thank you, babe," Paige said with a smile. "Toby, if you're finished?"

He put his hands up in mock surrender.

"Perfect. So as you know, our payment on the Sommers job came in, and we should be paid for the work we did for Molina's contractor by the end of the week. And we've finally fixed our direct deposit issue, so that's one less hoop to jump through. Now, we do have some pretty exciting news to share," Paige said with a smile.

She glanced at Florence. Walter knew Paige had picked a person at random, even subconsciously, to smile at. But when he saw Sylvester's face change, he knew things were about to get confusing.

"Wait, she knows?" Sylvester said in a low voice.

"She doesn't know," Florence said.

"I don't know what?" Paige said.

Sylvester looked confused. "About…the news."

" _You_  know about the news?"

"Why wouldn't I know about the news?" Sylvester asked.

"You told Sylvester the news?" Paige asked, turning to Walter.

"No," Walter said.

"No," Florence said at the same time. "Not your news."

"You haven't heard my news."

"I  _didn't_  tell  _him_  our news," Walter promised.

"Why did you emphasize 'him' instead of 'didn't' in that sentence?"

Sylvester tapped Florence's arm. "Are you  _sure_  Paige doesn't know our news?"

"How would she know our news?" Florence shot Walter a look.

"I didn't tell Paige your news," Walter said.

"You know their news?" Paige asked. She turned to Florence. "Did he tell you our news?"

Toby leaned over to Happy. "Up for a drinking game every time they say 'news'?"

"We have children at home and we can't afford to die or get our stomachs pumped."

"Hey!" Paige clapped her hands together. "Can we have order in the meeting room, please?"

"You were the one who – " Toby began.

"The Tipton – Dodds will  _not_  – "

" _Hey_!"

Walter enjoyed being reminded of how authoritative Paige could be. Seven years of uninterrupted relationship and he still found that hot.

"Sorry," Sylvester mumbled.

"Do you guys want to talk about your news first?" Paige said. "Ours will take a while."

"No," Florence said. "You go first. Ours might end up being distracting."

"You're pregnant," Toby said. He nudged Happy, completely unaware of the deer in the headlights expression on Sylvester's face. "Remember before everyone knew Paige was pregnant with Amber and Ralph and Patty were joking that Flor…"

"Wait,  _are you_?" Happy asked, staring at the Tipton – Dodds.

"You do have  _that look_  on your face…"

"Let them tell it," Walter said. "Even I know that we should let them tell it."

"You don't seem surprised," Sylvester said, raising an eyebrow.

"It wasn't her fault. I picked up on it."

"Wait," Paige was looking between Walter and the seated couple. "What's actually…"

"I am a little over twelve weeks pregnant," Florence said with a nod, a smile coming over her face.

"And we definitely took the twelve – week photo on the twelve week day," Sylvester said.

"Why on Earth would you bring that up if we actually did?" Florence asked.

"Because we  _did_." He gave her a wink.

"I'm still confused," Happy said. "Are you…pregnant?"

Florence nodded. "I am. This announcement was made way more complicated than it needed to be, but I am."

"Here." Sylvester dug into his bag. "Sonogram!"

Paige wrapped her arms around Walter's at the elbow. "Oh my gosh," she breathed.

"Exciting," Walter said

Happy took the image and studied it. "Wow, Sly. It has your squiggly black lines."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Sylvester said.

"Let us see!" Paige said, reaching out for it. She looked at Walter with an eyebrow raised. "Unless you were already privy to this sonogram."

"No. I merely suspected off behavior and she confirmed before leaving last week. I have not seen any imaging."

Paige took the sonogram from Happy. "Aw, this reminds me of when, oh! Walter, Happy and Toby!"

Everyone stared at her. Toby broke the silence. "Uh…what?"

"We should hang up all the kids' sonogram pictures in a row in birth order. We could do it in the kitchen or over by the desks."

"We don't have Tad's," Happy reminded her.

"We can ask if Aimee has a copy. Or can get one." Happy shrugged. "I know they lost a lot in the…the incident, and we didn't ask for her to dig around when we got him, but we could ask now. The worst that can happen is she says she can't get anything. We have certainly been in far more alarming situations."

"Actually," Paige said, "that is a great segue into the news Walter and I have."

Walter watched as Paige pulled up her laptop and projected the presentation they had worked on for hours – many hours – over the past few days. It was simply an explanation of the situation and ideas for which of their many accomplishments to recreate and highlight, but she spoke about it with al the professionalism and excitement of a business pitch. Walter was proud.

And a little turned on. But mostly proud.

"This could be totally lifechanging for us," Happy said when Paige had concluded.

"And for the world," Sylvester said.

"I'm familiar with all of those people," Florence said. "Chana is a former friend of mine, and I've met Beek and Lucas in professional settings."

"Think we can beat them?" Paige asked.

There was a firery competitive glint in her eyes. Florence noticed it, appearing alarmed for a moment. "Uh…" she cleared her throat. "I think our work is just as potentially beneficial as any."

"Uh – uh," Paige said, shaking her head. "Not  _potentially_ beneficial. We  _know_  that our work changes things. We just have to make sure they're practical applications. And that is where we brainstorm. We have done hundreds over the past ten plus years. We just have to make sure we pick the right ones and present them in the right way."

"How long do we have?" Florence asked.

"About three months," Paige said. "So I know you'll be pushing third trimester by the time we go…"

"People can fly until like, thirty – six weeks, I think," Florence said. "I can fly at twenty – four. Unless of course you all plan to pick successes that predate my addition to the team and do not need me."

"Nonsense," Sylvester said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "You'll participate in our pitch no matter what we choose to present."

"We are stronger together," Paige said with a nod. "We all go to D.C. if we are all able. I'm sure Cabe would come, too."

"This is the kind of thing that would draw him out of his semi – retirement," Toby said.

"It doesn't take much to draw him out of his semi – retirement," Walter said. "I told him he wouldn't really be able to stay away long."

"He'll definitely want to be here for this," Paige said. She smiled. "Okay, everyone ready to start figuring this out?" At the nods from the rest of the team, she smiled, reaching out to hold her hand over the middle of the table. "Put them here. 'Scorpion' on three."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may appear to be full of fluff and humor, but it's more than that. See what you can pick up on for later. ;)

"I have a fantastic surprise for you," Happy announced as she walked into the home. "But first of all, are the children asleep?"

"They're out like a light," Toby said. "What's this surprise?"

"So I bought something…" Happy pulled some clothing out of her shopping bag. "I thought you might like to take it off me a little later."

"Is this…is this a Helen of Troy costume?" He put a hand to his heart. "Happy, you know me so well."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "I thought we could both do something particularly fun."

"Absolutely. You are the best wife in the world." He kissed her. "Go put it on! Go put it on!"

"Not so fast, doc," she said with a smile. "I haven't given you

She pulled something out of her bag and handed it to him.

"Is this a…mustache?" He asked. "Is this…Salvador Dali's mustache?"

"It is."

"You want me to be Salvador Dali? You want Salvador Dali to make sweet repetitive love to Helen of Troy?"

"Isn't historically inaccurate role play kind of our thing?"

He considered that. "Excellent point, mi esposa."

"Ah. In character already." She bit her bottom lip flirtatiously. "I like it." She cocked her head. "I uh…I really need you to wear the mustache, though."

* * *

Sylvester Tipton – Dodd was damn lucky.

There were points in his life where that would be an incredibly inaccurate statement. His first wife died. The first person he loved after that admitted to feelings for someone else. His family fell apart. He shot somebody.

Yeah, 2018 had been particularly rough.

But he was lucky, overall, and he was in a position where he could reflect on just how so.

He'd had the chance to love Megan, and be loved by her right back. Florence, who had seemed so unattainable for varying reasons over the better part of a year, was his wife. She was carrying their baby.

And best of all, she was a woman who didn't mind their wedding photo sharing their dresser with a framed photo of him and the first woman he'd ever given his heart to. And when she walked into their bedroom and saw him staring at his and Megan's photo, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his, resting her head against his shoulder, and asked, "are you okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled down at her. "Yeah, I'm good."

"She'll be gone ten years this year, huh?"

"This calendar year, yes. We're still a ways away from the actual…anniversary."

"If this baby is a girl," Florence started.

"No."

"No?"

"I don't know." He pulled his arm out of hers to put it around her. "I don't know if she would have wanted that. She might have thought it was me being stuck in the past."

Florence looked at him, lifting her eyebrows in a mix of playful and suggestive that he found equal parts adorable and attractive. "Doesn't seem you're stuck back there."

"It's a balance," he said.

"You balance it very well." She motioned to him, that she wanted him to lean down. He did, and she brushed her lips over his. "I know I'm not her. But I think we do okay."

"Stop it." He shifted so he was standing in front of her. "I don't wish you were her. She was a wonderful part of my life. You are a wonderful part of my life."

"I know, Sly," she said, grabbing both his hands and squeezing them. "I know. But I never want you to feel bad for missing her. It doesn't make me feel inadequate, or anything."

"I know." They'd had this conversation before. But it felt good to have it again, periodically. They both felt better knowing they were on the same page. "I miss her and love you all at the same time."

She grinned. " _On_  that note. Remember what the doctor said about a possible increase in libido in the second trimester?"

"I know where you're going with this. I knew when you jumped me last night when we'd just done it the day before." She lifted her eyebrows again. Sylvester cleared his throat. "Wait, you want to do it  _again_?"

* * *

"No," Paige said, shaking her head while staring at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, I'm tired."

"Fair enough." Walter stretched. "It's been a long day."

"Not just work. Actually, not even  _really_  work. Amber just had so much energy even taking her to the park didn't really help. She'll sleep soundly now, at least." Paige gave a little laugh. "But man, toddlers are the best birth control."

"That would explain you not giving Ralph a sibling before he was eighteen."

"True story, though. Well, that and my relationship with his father had imploded by the time Ralph was three." She rolled on her side to face him. "I miss him."

"I know you do." He reached out and stroked her arm. "But he's happy, Paige. Things were rough for a while, and now he's happy."

"And I'm happy when he's happy," Paige said. "I just wish it could have worked out with him being happy here."

"Me, too." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I miss him, too. It seems like just yesterday he was running into the garage to look at the rocket I was building."

"Remember when he dressed up like you for picture day?"

"I don't have much memory of that day."

"Right. Because…right."

"I remember that, though. Vaguely. Maybe I just think I do because I've heard about it so much."

Paige ran a hand through his hair. "We're lucky that wonderful brain of yours still works at this point." She smiled at him. "I'm not too tired for you to kiss me."

Walter scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. She closed her eyes, kissing him back blissfully. "Oh, I love you," she murmured.

"You're my math and science," he said, his forehead against hers.

"I'm your what?"

"You know. Some say moon and stars."

Paige giggled. "Oh my gosh I like that."

"Good."

He kissed her again, and she moaned quietly against his lips, her hand on the side of his face with his ear tucked between her thumb and index finger. She moved the hand down to his shirt, curling it into her fist and starting to roll back over to her back. "Ugh, Walter, get on top of me."

He lifted his head, crawling to her side of the bed and settling on her. "You sure?" he asked, lowering his head to kiss her on the neck. "You're tired."

"I am, but I've done plenty of things while tired if I'm in the mood for them." She shifted her hips on the mattress, enabling her to hook her legs around his waist. "And my current mood is  _don't stop or we're getting divorced_."

"Well," Walter said, sliding a hand under her shirt and unhooking her bra, "we can't have that, now can we?"

* * *

Cabe was retired. Mostly. He was feeling his age in his joints and in the time he preferred to turn in for the night. But that didn't mean he wasn't still quite young in certain ways. For example, when Allie dropped down on the couch next to him and asked "wanna fool around?" he said yes.

Well, usually. Tonight was different.

"Uh, let's take a rain check on that," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "For some reason I feel like us messing around right now would be weird."


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey!" Allie said, looking excited to see Walter and Paige even though they'd told her they had arrived at their house. "How was Virginia?"

"Fairly uneventful," Walter said. "For us," he amended when Paige lifted her eyebrows.

"Fair enough," Allie said with a laugh. "Come in, come in."

"She's in the bedroom," Cabe said. "We're letting her pretend to paint it. She's enjoying herself."

"Thank you  _so_  much for watching her, you two," Paige said, hugging first Cabe and then Allie tightly.

"We are always happy to get to spend quality time with our grandchildren," Allie said. "Amber! Sweetie, come see who it is."

Amber walked out of the bedroom into the hallway, a paintbrush in her hand. Her eyes lit up when she saw her parents. "Mommy Daddy!" She ran to them, going to Paige with her arms outstretched.

"Baby girl," Paige said, bending down and lifting the little girl to her hip. "We missed you."

"Hey, Ambie," Walter said, kissing the top of her head. "Did you have a good time?"

"I paint the woom."

"Did you choose a color palette that is conducive to a good night's rest?" Walter asked.

"Yes," Amber said.

"Do you have any idea what Daddy is talking about?" Paige asked.

"I paint."

Paige laughed and cuddled her close.

Walter pulled Cabe aside. "So did you work with the alphabet letters?"

"A little," Cabe said.

He clearly didn't want to talk about it. "Is she still putting them in the wrong order?"

"Walter. She's two."

"Two – year – olds can…"

" _Some_ two – year – olds can sing the ABCs," Cabe said. "That doesn't mean something is wrong if she can't yet, and it also doesn't mean she can recognize the letters."

"How is she doing with plurals?"

"Walter. Not every two – year – old can do that well. And she's only been two for a few months."

"Her speech goes in and out. She makes simple sentences sometimes and sometimes can't string more than a word or two together. I just don't want – "

"Walt," Cabe said gently, "there is nothing wrong with your daughter. Even if she  _is_ having difficulties learning. She's a wonderful little girl. She is sweet, she is happy. I know you don't believe in this sort of thing, but you're blessed. Try to stop concerning yourself with her being ahead of the game and enjoy watching her figure things out."

"Daddy."

Walter turned away from Cabe. Amber was still in Paige's arms, but she was leaning in Walter's direction, a hand outstretched. Walter reached out and took it, stepping closer to them and smiling at his daughter. "Hey, little girl."

"Love love love you."

"Yeah," he said, squeezing her hand. "I love love love you too."

* * *

"We did not think through what my initials would be when we decided to both change our names to Tipton – Dodd."

"Sly," Florence said. "We have been over this."

"I know. I'm just tired of all the jokes."

"Who is making jokes?"

"No one." A pained look came over his face. "But I'm thinking of them."

"Well, think about this." Florence grinned. "In case you hadn't noticed, there were no mirrors available for use while we were in Virginia, and now that I've seen myself for the first time in nearly a week, I can finally tell that I'm pregnant."

Sylvester cocked his head. "You mean the nausea, doubled food intake, and a sexual appetite that's, quite frankly, absolutely terrifying wasn't already a sign?"

Florence rolled her eyes. "First of all, I guarantee I'm still asking you for sex less frequently than Happy and Toby and they have two kids to work around. Secondly, I mean I'm showing. Like for real now."

"Okay, not to…argue or anything…but you still kinda look the same to me. At least, close to the same as our last couple photos."

"Because you see me every day. But I am. Look." She dropped to the ground, laying flat on her back and tugging her sweater tightly around her.

"Okay. I can maybe see it when you do  _that_."

"Good." Florence got up. "Now that that business is out of the way…"

"Florence, no," Sylvester said.

"I'm not making a move on you, relax. What I  _am_  attempting to do is tell you I think I've come up with my modifier from your Chernobyl gig. We should be able to create seals around maritime disasters, though it will obviously need permission to test it or otherwise recreate ocean conditions…"

She continued, pulling up a few simulations on her laptop and pointing out a few variables that were concerning her. Sylvester was astounded at her ability to get so much done in such a short amount of time.

Well – it had been a month since Paige and Walter had initially shared this prospect with them. But Tad had gotten sick at school, and then of course Ellie and then Amber had followed, and  _then_  they had to go to New Mexico and then Virginia and…they'd been busy. Florence and Walter were easily farther along on their projects than the others were, though now that their kids were better, Happy and Toby were probably making good progress on their assignment – an updated, perfected version of the pseudo-womb the team had made for the deer in Africa.

Florence had rolled her eyes at the decision to use that one for their pitch, and no one had understood why until Sylvester had explained that Chana Wolowitz, one of their competitors for this donation, had complimented that particular accomplishment at the convention the two of them had attended in Florida years before. "My project will be the best one, anyway," she'd said.

"Of all of ours, or out of all the ones of everyone competing for this benefactor?" Sylvester had asked.

"Yes."

She hadn't been joking. Sylvester could tell with the amount of work she'd completed even with two months to go to the meeting in D.C.


	7. Chapter 7

"Can you imagine that we've spent the last six weeks working on perfecting all these things only to have the  _plane_  that's supposed to transport them be the thing that goes bad?" Happy grumbled, flipping the wrench she was holding up in the air, watching it sail end over end, come to a stop, and then fall back down. She caught it expertly, spinning it in her hand before sending it up again.

"Am I still learning things about your past after almost ten years together?" Toby asked. "Were you by any chance in the marching band?"

"Marching band? Ha!" Happy caught the wrench. "Like I'd be caught dead in spatterdashes."

"I don't know, I think it would be pretty hot."

Happy rolled her eyes, then cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "We can talk about it later."

"Yes, please talk about it later," Cabe said. "Ah," he added when Happy and Toby jumped. "Totally forgot I was here, huh?"

"I stand by my comment that my wife would look attractive in spats." Toby clapped his hands together. "Did you talk to your contact about a solution to our transportation problem?"

"I have," Cabe said. "Possibly. Happy, are you comfortable piloting?"

"What would I be piloting?" Happy asked. "The answer is yes, but I'm curious."

Cabe gave her the details of the plane. "The owner is happy to let us use it for a standard rental fee," he said. "But he isn't able to go along. I said you had your pilot's license – I'm assuming you haven't let it lapse – and that his plane was in more than capable hands."

"You assume correctly," she said. "On both accounts."

"Excellent." Cabe gave her a wink. "Just don't crash us, okay?"

"I don't plan for any more deserted islands to be in our future," Happy said. She flipped the wrench upward again.

Toby grinned. "That's my wife."

"Why are you identifying Happy to us?" Walter asked, entering the garage with Paige behind him.

"Um, more importantly, where is your child?"

"With your children," Paige said pointedly. "At Cabe and Allie's."

"You dropped her off with Allie?"

"She was already there when you brought Tad and Ellie," Paige said. She cocked her head. "You guys…okay?"

"Yes," Happy said. "We were just stressed about the plane situation. But Cabe came through for us."

"What plane situation?" Walter asked.

"The plane you were planning to take out East to this benefactor competition has some severe issues that will take weeks to be fixed," Cabe said.

"Well, that's a problem," Paige said. "We leave end of this week and we need something private to load our..."

Cabe raised his eyebrows at her.

"Oh. Right, you've figured something out." Paige gestured vaguely toward Happy and Toby. "A little slow to connect the dots tonight, I guess. So where are Florence and Sylvester? Or did we already cover that, too?"

"They're coming right from their appointment," Toby said.

Paige frowned. "Wasn't it at three? The twenty – two week checkup isn't supposed to take long."

"It doesn't, usually," Toby said. "At this point unless there's a problem they don't do a whole lot until the end of the trimester."

"I hope nothing's wrong," Paige said. She'd barely gotten the words out when the garage door opened again.

"Sorry we're late," Sylvester said, holding the door for his wife. He looked solemn. Florence greeted them all with a thin smile.

"Is…is everything…" Cabe began.

"Yeah, everything's good. With us, at least," Florence said. She glanced at Sylvester. "The woman before us, uh, well, we don't know, but they had her leave through the back."

"Oh, no," Paige said. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"We don't think it was," Sylvester said. "And I feel guilty for this, but I'm trying distract from thinking about what that might have been about to focus on the fact that our little one is doing absolutely wonderful."

"That's all you can do," Toby said. "There's no shame in being happy about things going well."

"And things  _are_?" Walter said. "Just…just to clarify. Things  _are_  going well?"

"We are both healthy as a horse," Florence said, running a hand over her belly. "Eating like one, too. And growing like a weed."

"Are you guys finding out the sex?" Cabe asked.

"Nope," Sylvester said. "We want to be surprised. Doc doesn't know either yet. He or she has been very modest in the ultrasounds."

"Just like his or her parents," Florence said with a smirk.

Sylvester lifted a hand.

Toby cocked his head. "Why would you high five that?"

Florence smacked her hand against Sylvester's. "You and Walter high fived some weird sex thing you let your wives do you to last week."

"I'm sorry, you and Walter what?" Paige asked, looking at her husband with her eyebrows up.

Walter shrugged awkwardly. "He brought it up, he offered the high five…I wanted to be agreeable."

"That's probably the attitude that led him to let her try the weird sex thing," Sylvester whispered to Florence, who put a hand over her mouth to mask a laugh.

"I will have to go in the grave to escape you all being like this," Cabe grumbled.

"Sorry, Gallo," Toby said.

"I think the word we're looking for here," Paige said, "is  _anyway_ …"

" _Anyway_ ," Happy picked up, "if we can get the plane tomorrow, I'll go over it, make sure everything is solid, and then come end of the week we'll be set to go on schedule. I don't know what those motorized seat belts have come up with, but there's no way they're more beneficial to humanity than our projects."

"Motorized seat belts?" Paige asked in a low voice.

"A useless car feature," Sylvester said. "They've been her insult of choice lately."


	8. Chapter 8

"This is actually still a decent plane," Sylvester said, taking Florence's bag and shoving it into the compartment.

"Thanks, babe," she said, easing down onto the seat next to his. "I hope we don't hit turbulence. My balance is starting to go a bit."

Sylvester nodded, still studying the cabin. "No comfortable couches, but there's a level of private space every couple chairs, so we can all sit with our spouses. And it's clean. This pleases me greatly."

"You losers can stay back here in the cabin," Toby said. "My private space is with my wife in the cockpit."

"Absolutely not," Happy said. "The owner of the plane sent along his son as the copilot, and I don't want him backing out on us last minute so I'm not subjecting him to all your dad jokes."

"I still say I would have been a good copilot," Toby said. He turned to Walter and Paige. "Did I ever tell you how Happy made fun of me about my lack of a sense of direction?"

"No," Walter said.

"Yeah it was pretty bad, so I packed up my stuff and right."

Paige groaned.

"This is exactly why you can't be in the cockpit," Happy said, tapping him firmly on the chest before disappearing through the door.

* * *

There was some wind present by the time the team was ready to take off, but they were cleared to go on schedule. Simon, the copilot, came over the intercom to give the update. "Please remember the emergency thingamajig we talked about earlier, and it is now time to buckle up, because we're going to put this baby in the sky!"

Walter frowned, leaning over to Paige. "The term 'buckle up' always sort of turns me on, and it's very weird when it's not you saying it."

"Hey," Paige said, "we're getting older every day. I don't care who gets your motor running as long as I'm the only garage you visit."

He rolled his eyes. " _Obviously_  it's only attractive because I can't hear it without picturing you in my shirt."

"As much as I  _do_  love getting details of your private life," Sylvester said, "and as  _classic_  as this particular story has become, Cabe isn't here to scar for life, so maybe tone it down a little."

"Tone it down?" Toby repeated. "The copilot just referred to our safety and emergency evacuation plans as a  _thingamajig_. These may be our last hours alive."

"You're more dramatic than the wannabe actress I roomed with in college," Paige said.

"Attention, please," came Simon's voice. "It is time to turn phones into Airplane Mode. So time to get off Tinder, Grinder, Farmers Only dot com, wherever you are swiping, we do not judge, but do need you to…"

"Dear lord," Walter muttered.

The plane picked up speed lifting into the air, and Paige noticed both Florence and Sylvester grab the motion sickness bags available in each compartment. She realized she wasn't sure where hers was located. She hoped she wouldn't get air sick.

The plane slowly reached cruising altitude, tipping just a bit with the wind. Paige closed her eyes, trying to zone out as Toby began giving statistics about motion sickness. She was nervous about what they were headed East to try to do. She got irritable when she was nervous, and Toby providing non stop commentary on the flight wasn't helping. He'd been chatty like this in the van over, too.

They hit slight turbulence, tipping one way and then the other. "Weeeeeeeee!" Toby held his arms out, leaning side to side like a plane against the wind. "This is fun, huh?"

Paige, resting her cheek against her hand, glanced at him. "Toby, the kids aren't here, you don't have to do that."

"Oops." Toby grinned. "Just a habit, I guess."

"I have never been in that habit in my life," Walter deadpanned.

"Guess I'm just a better dad than you, then," Toby said, adjusting his hat.

"You are absolutely not a better dad than me."

"Paige," Toby said, "which of us is the better dad?"

"Of course she's going to pick me," Walter said, "I'm the one she's parenting with."

"Which might be exactly why she'd pick me."

"The best father of everyone here?" Paige said. " _Me_. Because I had to be mother and father to Ralph, and I did it alone for seven years."

Walter and Toby were quiet, looking at each other. "Alright," Toby said. "We were joking around and you made it really real, but fair enough."

Paige was resting against the divider. Walter leaned over, resting his head on his shoulder and squeezing her knee. "Ugh, it is too hot in here to be your pillow, Walt."

"No it isn't," he said, "you're just mad you didn't think to make me yours first."

"My wife is flying the plane, and I'm stuck back here watching Waige PDA." Toby made a face of mock disgust.

"I mean, you could turn around here and watch me rub my wife's feet," Sylvester said, "but I'd imagine that would distress you more."

Toby peered over the divider. "You're rubbing her feet with gloves on?" He cocked his head. "I thought the magical thing about your relationship is you actually  _like_  touching her."

Sylvester looked at Toby as if he had two heads. "They're still  _feet_."

The plane jostled. Happy's voice came over the intercom. "We're experiencing some slight turbulence again. Do not be alarmed, but leave your seat belts on."

The intercom crackled on again, and this time Simon's voice was heard. "However, if you happen to see the pilots screaming and leaving the air bus, feel free to grab a parachute and follow."

"Not funny!" Sylvester called.

The intercom activated again. "I'm sorry," Simon replied, "we're not taking questions or comments from the audience just yet."

There was a rattling sound, and then Happy's voice again reached their ears. "You'll have to forgive my copilot. His mouth is talking. I'm working to fix that."

"Well, they seem to be having fun," Sylvester remarked.

The plane shook, as if it was going over potholes.

Florence jumped up and fled for the bathroom.

"Poor lady," Toby said. "She's just gotten over morning sickness and now she's got air sickness." When no one responded, he tapped his foot. "Do you guys want to see something cool? I could perform a magic trick."

"Or you could perform a stop it," Walter suggested.

"Honestly, both of you," Paige said with a heavy sigh. "I know you're both nervous about this presentation. We all are. But when Walter, you're coping by getting quiet and broody and Toby, you're talking enough to make up for his silence. And everything about that is driving  _me_  absolutely crazy." She ran a hand through her hair. "If we get on each other's nerves now, we're going to act like assholes when it counts, and that's not how we get these donations. We have to figure out how to cope with nerves  _without_  it being at everyone else's expense."

Florence emerged from the bathroom. "Well," she said in response to the others looking her way, "I was scared I was going to throw up all over the floor in there, and I didn't, so…small victories?"

"You didn't throw up?" Sylvester said. "I'm impressed."

"Oh I threw up," she said. "I just threw up in the toilet and not all over the floor."

Sylvester gave a slow nod, then lifted a hand. "Hey. Small victories."

Florence completed the high five. The plane jostled again, and she overcorrected, slamming her hip into the side of the seat as she sat back down. "Imagine what my balance would be like in the third trimester," she commented. "I won't be able to walk on the  _ground_  at this rate."

"You're experiencing a very different situation than you do on the ground," Toby said. "With your midsection growing slowly, you should be able to adjust just fine, although you will find that the pregnancy alters your…" he trailed off. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

Paige nodded.

"Oops." Toby clapped his hands together. "Hey, why don't I lead a breathing exercise? It will help all our nerves, plus Florence, Florence can get a jump start on Lamaze."

"Florence is tired," Florence said. "Florence is going to get a jump start on a  _nap_."

"Fine." Toby shrugged. "I thought I would distract you all from how much better the project I was working on is better than all of yours, but if you'd rather dwell on getting upstaged by the person with a lower IQ, then feel free to…"

"My IQ is lower than yours and  _my_  project is best," Florence said. "So I think I'm the real winner here."

"Um, excuse me," Paige said, raising a hand.

Walter was looking around curiously. "I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong, but did this suddenly become a competition for who is the  _least_ genius?"

"That it did," Paige said. She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Loser."


	9. Chapter 9

"So?" Toby, sitting cross legged on the bed, bounced in place as his wife entered the room and threw off her coat. "What sort of dirt did you dig up at guest social without me?"

"No dirt," Happy said, sliding under the covers. "And you were free to come with me, you know. Everyone basically just exchanged pleasantries, grabbed some cookies, and made some small talk before going back to their rooms. I just got some information on what specifically people are doing. I think we have a decent shot at this."

"Well, tell me something I don't know!" He joked.

Happy rolled her eyes. "Marcie Lucas is working on several projects, but the one everyone is talking about is her concept of drones that can take out meteors that would hit the earth and cause another mass extinction. How practical is that overall?" Happy shifted on the mattress.

"I suppose you could argue that while used less frequently, when it is utilized it would save every human being on the planet. Which of course, none of us can match with any of our work examples."

"That's certainly an extreme example of the Greater Good."

Toby nodded. "Tell me about it. We could probably construct a model that shows probability of an event that each of our work could help occurring as well as the amount of good that is projected to come from it."

"That would have been a nice thing for you to do while I was out trying to be a social butterfly."

"Oh, I've already done it for all of Scorpion's projects. But now that we know more about the others…"

Happy raised her eyebrows.

"I'll get on it in a minute."

"You mean, you'll text Sylvester asking him to do it?"

"Fine. Sylvester's been running the numbers. But I still say our project is the best one we have."

"I agree," Happy said. "But we have to present as a united front tomorrow. I'm a bit worried that Florence or my competitive streak will come out and we will, well…"

" _Be_  you guys?" Toby asked.

"Well. Yeah." Happy played with her wedding ring. "I'm also worried that someone might hit a nerve with Paige and she'll make a petty remark. I'm also worried you'll make a comment that someone finds inappropriate, and I'm worried that Sylvester will get flustered or that Walter will be insulting…I'm just  _worried_."

"I get that." Toby leaned over and patted the covers over her leg. "But we always come through when it's absolutely critical."

"Yeah. But the odds say eventually we won't. And we've never done anything quite like this before."

"That's true. Though we've been so successful at so many crazy things over the years, and how many of our craziest things have we ever done twice? We're getting the shot at that this time. We've had time and a relaxed environment to perfect things we already have done well. We're going to blow them away. I'm confident."

* * *

"So you used this to save a premature deer because your friend wanted to get laid?"

"I told you we didn't need to give them a play by play of the entire day," Happy said to Toby through clenched teeth. They stood behind the small table used to display the pseudo – womb. On one side was a computer playing video and a poster containing the abstract for a paper Thomas Beek's student had authored. On their other side was Chana Wolowitz, speaking earnestly to two men who were just as well dressed as Dr. James Ewart, the advisor to the benefactor that stood in front of the Quintis table. The benefactor had required all teams be split up and scattered across various rooms in the hotel, so that the advisors would remember the accomplishments and examples, not a display that happened to be the flashiest.

"Our reasoning and motivations for making the decision to save the deer is not really relevant to the effectiveness of the womb," Toby said. "We succeeded in protecting this animal that would have died otherwise, and we've updated it to be able to accommodate human newborns as well. If you combine it with the oxygen supplier through the blood, which we have already demonstrated the effectiveness of in our famed rescue of the boy at the Zuma Beach – which I'm sure you heard about more when you spoke to my colleagues the O'Briens – it could be a huge and fairly cost – effective alternative to standard NICU practices."

"NICU, sure," said Dr. Ewart. "But the benefactor is hoping to give money to a team that can provide assistance on a more personal level. I'm sure you know that Thomas Beek's integrated pest management practices are practical for the average poor farming family."

"Oftentimes," Happy said, "technology that was once only available to the rich, or to institutions, become fairly affordable and commonplace over time. We have eliminated the very first step of that by creating something that most hospitals and trauma centers will be able to afford. It is one step closer to it being available in every ambulance in the country."

"Cell phones and computers were once unthinkable as household devices," Toby said.

"And many families still cannot afford them," Ewart pointed out.

"No, that is true," he said. "But one thing that I think is important to consider is nothing anyone has brought here has been proven in practice, at least not on a large scale. Thomas Beek's ideas are fairly derivative of what the agriculture industry in the Midwest has been doing since the 1980s."

Dr. Ewart raised his eyebrows. "Resorting to talking down the others' work, rather than having anything additional to say about yours. Interesting."

"I don't mean – "

"No need to get defensive," he said. "I'm here to make observations and ask questions. I assume you were informed of that before you came."

Toby cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you for the information and the demonstration," Ewart said. "I'm sure my colleagues will find this fascinating." He turned, a smile coming over his face when he made eye contact with Beek's student. "Lydia Dirks. How lovely to see you again."

"That could have gone better," Toby said.

"Still so confident that we got this?" Happy asked.

"I'm sure they are questioning all the others just as strictly," Happy said. "They don't want to give the money to just anyone."

"We're not just anyone."

"And that's why at the end of the day, we could very well still be their top choice. We wouldn't be on the short list if we hadn't already been extensively vetted."

Toby smiled. "And suddenly, you're the one convincing me that  _I_  shouldn't be so unsure."

She bumped her hip against his. "We're married. We're supposed to pick up each other's slack."

* * *

Paige was extremely impressed with how Walter was handling the questions they'd been hit with over the past several hours. James Ewart had been a real hard ass. He'd been the first of the benefactor's advisors to approach them – although she suspected all of the 'general public' that was attending this event were also somehow connected to the person that would make the final decision. Florence had texted Walter with a warning about the type of questions Séverine Metharom would be asking, and Paige thought she and Walter had navigated their little interrogation perfectly. But then Happy had texted them saying that Metharom had made a comment to them that had implied that the advisor  _hadn't_  liked them much after all.

They'd all known this would be difficult, but Paige was starting to realize that as prepared as they might have thought themselves, they might actually be on more of a level playing field with their competitors than they'd thought.

Chana Wolowitz had approached their table minutes ago, and Walter was currently smiling and nodding at something she was saying. Paige narrowed her eyes. Florence said that Wolowitz wasn't someone who would play dirty. But Paige knew she wasn't immune to her old trust issues and suspicious tendencies popping back up again.  _Be careful what you tell her, Walter._  The fact that Chana had – apparently for years, according to Florence – been suggesting that Scorpion try to make money off of some of the very accomplishments they were highlighting made Paige all the more suspicious.

"Mrs. O'Brien?"

It was Rocky Vogel. He was reportedly their CEO benefactor's right hand man, although some believed that he was an alias for the benefactor himself. "I see what they're doing," Allie had muttered when she'd been shown photographs of the advisors and of the CEO. "Very  _Westing Game_."

"Mrs. O'Brien is my mother – in – law," she said, because she knew Vogel's type would chuckle at that remark. "You may call me Paige."

"Paige is a lovely name. I have to say, I prefer it over Mrs. O'Brien."

He wasn't flirting. But she made sure the hand she lifted to tuck hair behind her ear was the one with her ring on it. "What can I do for you, Mr. Vogel?"

"If we could step into the meeting room for a moment? I've been speaking with the PR leaders for each group we're considering, and from everything I've read, that person is you."

"Sure."

She sat across a card table from him, Vogel's hands flying over his laptop's keyboard while she answered his questions. They started easily enough – he asked her to talk about Scorpion, and she knew her passion for the company came through whenever she discussed it – and slowly intensified until she almost wasn't prepared for the questions he was asking.  _Classic tactic. Putting the frog in water and slowly heating it up._ This was the EQ part of the job, and it was supposed to be her wheelhouse.  _Breathe, Paige._

"In addition to our hopes that the money will create improvements for humanity in general," Vogel said, "we are also concerned with the likelihood that the team that receives the money remains a cohesive unit, to assure that none of the money will be used for purposes other than which it is intended."

"Well," Paige said, "Scorpion is a family. We are extremely cohesive."

"Your team has had a rocky past," said Vogel. "Steven Royce's law office have all been working together for going on twenty years. Your team has gained and lost members in that time."

"When you say that their team hasn't changed in that long," Paige said, "I hear that they potentially aren't open to new people or new ideas, even though both may add value to their ventures. Scorpion has had multiple people who are no longer with us for a variety of reasons…"

"Including Mark Collins, who was something of a domestic terrorist."

"Also Cabe Gallo, who still works with us in a reduced capacity due to his retirement. I also joined the team later than the others, and Florence Tipton arrived three years after I did. We allow ourselves to grow and evolve and utilize the new ideas that new people have brought."

"You also had a very famous fracture with the current members that, directly or indirectly, resulted in the deaths of multiple people and near death for your husband and Mr. Dodd."

"That was back in 2018. We're a family. We had a rift. It is ancient history."

"I understand. And your record since has been very impressive. Strangely, I see that your son has been very absent from the team's roster since your daughter was born."

Paige set her jaw. "Ralph is an adult. He is under no obligation to continue working for the company and that hardly has anything to do with our unity."

"We have been led to understand that his absence has to do with a situation where an ex – girlfriend of his extorted the team for a considerable sum of money."

"It was money we had earned that did not have conditions attached to it. We wouldn't spend what is essentially grant money on personal matters."

"Of course not. But it does raise questions about judgement, and we'd hate to give all this money to a team that might misinterpret the best ways to help people."

"Any venture has the possibility to fail," Paige said. "That doesn't mean we are any more high risk than anyone else."

"That is a good point to make," Vogel said. "Though if your own son doesn't want to be a part of the team, that raises into question Scorpion's viability for long term survival."

Paige could feel herself getting defensive.  _They're questioning everyone just as thoroughly. Don't take this personally._ But they were questioning her son. How was she not supposed to take that personally?  _Don't. Don't let them get to you._  "Oftentimes, family businesses can find themselves in muddled gray areas due to family loyalty and family politics. We are  _like_  family, but we don't require blood relatives as some sort of way to pass the business on. We can stay a relevant company without any of us having children poised to take it over. When Walter started the company, he didn't think he would ever have offspring. He built it by finding people who needed him and building the company around their strengths. We're the only ones here that have operated that way and I view that as a positive, not a negative. Our successes have been largely due to how different we are from most other companies."

* * *

"You're awfully quiet," Walter commented.

Paige looked up from her pasta.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't realize when you suggested we get food you were expecting engaging conversation."

Walter put his fork down.

Paige sighed.  "Sorry."

"Something is bothering you, Love.  I thought you were just stressed from the day, and that dinner together would relax you.  But it seems you're somewhere else."

"I miss Amber.  We're away from her so much."

"I miss her, too.  It's only been the last few months that we've really been extensively traveling without her.  Soon she will be old enough to come with us sometimes."

"I just..." she twirled the pasta around her fork.  "Growing up...when Ralph was growing up, rather, he was always with me.  I saw him every day after work.  Sometimes I took him with me to work.  We were each other's person.  And now...now I haven't seen him in six months."

"He loves you more than anything in the world, Paige," Walter said.  "He's just spreading his wings."

"I just never imagined that when he left that May after Amber was born that he wouldn't come back."

"Did someone say something to you today that brought up these feelings?"

"Yeah.  Rocky Vogel.  He made a comment about how we must not be a cohesive, viable unit because I couldn't even manage to keep my own son around."

"He said that?"

"Not exactly.  But you know how it is when people say things but mean something else."

"Hmmph."  Water tapped the edge of his plate.  "So you're worried that spending less time with Amber at this age will result in a less meaningful relationship with her when she's an adult."

"Yeah."

"That's possible."

"What-"

"I'm sorry, that was blunt.  But what I mean is, sure, it might, or she might grow up to be a total mama's girl and we'll be eighty years old still screaming at her to move out and find her own place."

"Or a daddy's girl."

"Or both."

"Both is good."

"Yeah."  Walter slid his foot forward to touch hers under the table.  "You did nothing wrong with Ralph.  Please tell me that you know that."

She blinked, and he saw tears in her eyes.  "I miss him, Walter.  I miss him so, so much."

"I know.  I do too."

"And I just want these next few days to be over so I can go home and hold our daughter.  She's just a baby.  She's too young to leave."

Walter wasn't the best at reading people, even Paige, even now, after all this time.  He would probably never be good at that.  Likewise, he thought, Paige would probably never shake her abandonment issues. 

Happy and Toby always talked about how married couples picked up each other's slack.  The two of them were brilliant at it.  Walter thought that he and Paige did well too, at least most of the time.

But this.  He didn't know how to help her with this.


	10. Chapter 10

Day two could have gone better.

But, Paige reasoned, it could have gone way worse. She was very confident in her feeling that Steven Royce was probably out of the running now.

That left Scorpion, Thomas Beek and his team, Marcie Lucas, and Chana Wolowitz.

Walter was in the shower, and Paige went to the desk, checking the charge on her phone. Still too low. She sat at the desk chair, pulling her feet up to her chest. She and Walter had spent  _way_  too long on the phone with Cabe and Allie earlier.

At least from a phone battery perspective. From an "I miss my daughter so much there's a physical ache in my chest" perspective, Paige thought the call had been way too short.

But Amber wasn't the only person she missed. Paige dialed. She got an answer on the second ring.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hey Ralph."

There was a long silence that Ralph broke. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, I just…" Paige put her hand up to her forehead. "Scorpion is busy playing politics to get some money, and there's just a lot going on, and I wanted to hear your voice."

"Okay. I have a class in a few minutes."

"Oh. I can…call back."

"No. If I have class in a few minutes, that means I have a few minutes before I'm busy." She could hear a shifting sound and knew Ralph was tucking his phone. "I'll always have a few minutes for you, Mom. Tell me about this benefactor."

Paige realized by the use of  _benefactor_  that Ralph already had heard about it. "I don't want to repeat anything Walter may have told you."

"He just told me what it was. I haven't talked to him since you guys got out there."

"Okay." Paige explained the events of the past few days. "We're leaving tomorrow and we won't know the decision for  _weeks_ , maybe. It's going to be so nerve wracking. One of our competitors says her assistant is going to be doing a real world experiment of her drones in the next few days, which apparently will prove she's capable of saving the entirety of humanity with one launch or something like that. She's grinding our gears. But anyway, what's going on in your life, baby? How are things with Mia?"

"Oh. We broke up a couple weeks ago."

Paige was surprised. Last time she'd asked about Mia, Ralph had gushed about her. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. We're still friends. We just realized we were better that way. I think both of us were a little upset about it at first, but we just hung out day before yesterday and nothing felt weird."

"That's good. And Patty? Are she and Daisy still together?"

"Still as together and disgustingly in love as ever."

Paige gave a little laugh. "That's good."

"Patty says they're still too young, but I wouldn't be surprise if Daisy proposes this year."

"Wow."

"Yeah." Ralph was silent a moment. "How's Walter?"

"He's good. Are…are you asking for a particular reason?"

"No. He just mentioned he had a bad headache, and I know he's gotten them more frequently lately."

"He's stressed. You know how he gets when he feels like he needs to solve a problem and he can't." Paige picked at a loose string on her jeans. It was going to cause a run when she pulled it out, she knew that. But she also knew it was bothering her, so she was going to pull it out. "And I know later this year is going to be hard on him too, with it being ten years since his sister died. Don't worry about him, baby. I'll take care of him."

"You do a good job with that."

"Not to toot my own horn or anything," she joked, "but I know. Well, I'm sure you need to get to class."

"It's okay."

"No, you don't want to be marked late."

Ralph laughed. "No mom, I'm the TA."

"Oh." Paige laughed. "Well, still, if you're fifteen minutes late, they're allowed to leave."

"Ha, yeah. I'll talk to you in a few days, okay?"

"Sounds good. I'm looking forward to it already."

"Because I'll always be your baby."

"You knew what I was going to say next." Paige was smiling. "Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too, Mom."

* * *

"Our friendly copilot is not joining us on the return trip, so unfortunately you'll have to deal without a second season of Simon Says," Happy said.

"Can I sit in the cockpit with you?" Toby asked.

"You may. Just keep your hands to yourself. I'm going to be flying through some turbulence again and I don't need your games."

"I'm insulted that you think I wouldn't be professional," Toby said, throwing a wink Walter and Paige's way.

Paige rolled her eyes. So did Happy, but she had a smirk on her face. "Come with me, pervert."

Toby grinned as he followed her into the cockpit.

"Yay, turbulence again," Florence said. "Just what I was hoping for."

"Well, not to worry," Sylvester said. "I have extra motion sickness bags."

"Aw, you take care of me." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Seriously though, I hope you brought a lot. Oh, check it out." She tapped her belly, and Sylvester put his hand over the spot, grinning.

"Ah, we're feeling kicks now, huh?" Paige asked.

"We were pretty sure we could feel them starting two weeks ago, but it's definitely what's going on now," Florence said. Sylvester kept his hand on her belly, looking down at it, and Florence kept her eyes on him, a smile on her face.

The adoring way in which she was looking at him made Paige's heart flutter. She disguised it with a grunt as she looked at Walter. "Mushy stuff, right?"

"You saying you want me to stop looking at you like that?"

She shifted her weight, resting her head on his shoulder. "Absolutely not."

* * *

Paige yawned and stretched. Her and Walter's fingers were threaded together, and she straightened hers, stretching them before curling them back around her husband's. She sat up, craning her neck around to look out the window. There were clouds below, but she could make out mountains.

_Second glass of wine, just over the Rockies. She didn't see the signs, but it was plain as plain can be. Buckle up, here comes love, looks like cupid just showed up. Let him on, let him by…_

The plane jostled slightly. Paige glanced over to where the Tipton – Dodds sat. Sylvester was asleep, his head tipped back against the wall. Florence was laying against him, legs tucked up, head on his chest. She was awake, but didn't appear to be nauseous. Their eyes met, and she gave Paige a small smile.

Paige stretched her hand again, then tightened it around Walter's. He opened his eyes and squeezed her hand back, shifting his weight and grunting quietly. "These seats aren't comfortable anymore," he mumbled.

"Yes they are, you just haven't moved a muscle in two hours."

"Fair."

_I'm calling it off, I'm taking the dog, and don't try to follow. She thinks she's a big star now…_

"What?"

"Hmm?"

Walter gave her an amused look. "You were mumbling something."

"Oh. Song stuck in my head. When I saw the mountains."

"Rocky Mountain High?" Florence asked, her eyes half closed.

"No," Paige said, "though that's much less obscure than where my brain went."

_She thinks she's a big star now; she made the Hollywood round of American Idol. Thirty minutes later she felt sorry for him a little; she moved from her seat on the aisle to the middle. Buckle up…_

A loud metallic sound accompanied the plane lurching to the side, one of the suitcases dropping from the overhead and smashing open. Paige yelped in surprise. Sylvester's eyes flew open. "What – "

The plane corrected, shuddering and dipping but leveling out. Then there was another loud crashing sound, and it tipped dramatically to the side again. Paige held onto the back of the seat in an effort to not go flying. "Walter, don't!" She shouted when he used one of his arms to wrap around her, the hand on the seat back slipping. "I've got it,  _you_  hang on!"

"Happy, Toby, what the Hell?" Florence shouted. She and Sylvester were on the side of the plane that the lean was toward, so their concern was the luggage flying out of the compartments on Walter and Paige's side.

"We're being attacked!" Happy shouted. "Something's out there!"

"Maybe it'a a bird?" Paige suggested. "Birds collide with planes."

"It's too big to be a bird," Walter said. "And birds usually aren't made of metal."

"Then what is it?  _Happy_!"

"We don't know!" came Toby's voice. "Let her fly!"

Happy's voice came over the speaker. "Just call me Harmon Rabb."

There was a third collision. The plane careened forward, seemingly in a nose dive. Slightly more secure in her seat, Paige's mind immediately went to her husband. He'd had multiple major head injuries in the time she'd known him. He'd been having headaches recently. What if…

"We're going down!" Happy shouted.

"I'm coming!" Walter yelled, getting to his feet just as there was another jostling,

"No you're not!" Paige shouted, her eyes widening in horror as the masks descended from the ceiling. "We're depressurizing!" She grabbed one mask, a fistful of Walter's shirt in her other hand. She knew the protocol. Secure your own mask before helping someone else. She didn't care. She shoved the mask into Walter's hand before grabbing her own and slipping the strap over her head.

"Get in your seats and buckle up!" Toby shouted. "She's going to try to land it in a clearing that's supposed to be up…"

He didn't get a chance to finish. Something else hit the plane, causing a light and roaring sound from the tail end.  _Oh, God,_ Paige thought. Whatever was attacking them, it had torn the plane open."

_Amber, Amber, Amber…_

She looked over at the Tipton – Dodds. Their masks were on, and they were staring at each other, wide – eyed. His arms were wrapped around her, and hers were curled protectively around her belly.

The plane dropped lower, the incline going up toward the front so steep the fallen luggage was sliding toward the door to the cockpit. The first suitcase hit the door with a loud thud just as there was another impact to the plane.

Paige looked out the window. The mountains were close. Too close. Rushing toward them.

She pulled Walter to her, wrapping her arms around his head, swearing she'd sacrifice herself before she'd allow him to take that kind of impact again.

The ground rushed toward them. There was one, two, three, four large bumps, then a combination of metallic screeches, debris falling, and a loud, long scream from Sylvester.

Then everything went black.


	11. Chapter 11

Walter couldn't see.

Well. That wasn't entirely accurate. He could make out…light…and shapes. Dim light, distorted shapes, muffled sounds. Like he was underwater. Or in one of those fun houses that his sister would drag him to, with those mirrors that distorted your proportions. He should have been fascinated by those mirrors, but they always made him sick to his stomach. Gave him a headache. But oh, how Megan would laugh at their giant oval shaped heads, skinny necks, and hips three times their normal width. Then she would tickle him so he would laugh, too. "Walter, Walter, Walter," she would say, an amused smile on her face when he'd attempt to dart away. "You know you want to laugh. We both know it, little bro."

He could hear his name now. "Walter, Walter, Walter." He could see the mirrors, twisted and shifting. But it wasn't Megan's voice. The sight before him, slowly growing clearer, wasn't the reflections in the fun house. The voices in the background didn't have Irish accents.

Twenty years of memories, temporarily muffled and muted, rushed back to him. Walter sat up, groaning loudly from physical and emotional pain, holding his head.  _Megan, Megan, Megan._

"Stay still!" The voice was Paige's. He thought it was hers that had been saying his name just moments ago. "Walter, our plane went down. You've hit your head."

"It could have been much worse," Toby was saying. "Paige kept you shielded from what probably would have been a deadly impact. As is we're at a bit of a concussion risk, but compared to what this head of yours has endured before…"

"Ohhh." Walter pressed his fingers into his forehead. "My head."

"Just breathe, Love," Paige said. "Why don't you lay back? I'd tucked my jacket under your head while you were unconscious."

Walter did as she suggested, easing back slowly. "How are the others?"

"Happy's fine. A little banged up. She'll bruise nicely," Toby said. "I checked Florence over and she seems to have come out unscathed, ditto for Sly though they'll probably be pretty sore. We all will be."

"Simon?"

"He didn't come back with us, remember?" Paige said, brushing her hand over his forehead.

"Oh. Right."

"Is he awake?"

That was Florence's voice. Walter's neck ached when he turned it. She was walking from the rear of the plane, stepping over some of the debris. Walter realized that the plane was torn along the sides and up top, with natural light streaming in – along with branches full of leaves and needles.

"He is." Toby looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You were in the bathroom?"

"Yeah. Nothing's out of the ordinary."

"Good." Toby nodded. He looked back at Walter. "Happy is checking the extent of the damage outside. She should be in any minute."

"That I should be." Happy appeared, crawling through the plane's door. It was only opening about three quarters of the way. "It appears there's a water source about a half mile away. There's an open area – a field – a little farther off in the opposite direction." She frowned and rubbed her neck.

"We could split up," Florence said, giving a similar frown as Happy as she placed a hand on her lower back. "Some of us go get water, some head to the clearing to try and get together materials for a signal fire."

"We have some flares," Happy said, "but the fire would be better, as long as we can contain it with the wind."

"We can gather wood for it," Paige said, "and then wait to light it until it's safer."

"Good idea," Sylvester said. "Then we should probably gather stuff from around here, too, so we can heat ourselves at night. It gets cold in the mountains."

"You know that from your backpacking days, huh?" Florence teased. Sylvester gave a mock glare.

"Well, Walter should stay here," Toby said. "I don't want him even leaving what's left of this plane until we know the extent of his head injury. Paige, you stay with him?"

Paige nodded. "I was going to insist."

"I thought you might."

"I don't think I should go to get water," Florence said. "Chances are I'd slip. And with my back being sore already, it's only going to get worse."

"It seems a bit rocky around the pond," Happy said. "Sly and I should go."

"So that leaves me and Toby to go to the clearing," Florence said. "Good thing I'm wearing my walking shoes."

"Um, no," Toby said. "We're going to check out the immediate area around the plane. I don't want to be far from Walter and I don't want you hoofing it nearly two miles after the accident we just had."

"Probably smart, sweetie," Sylvester said.

Florence nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She smoothed her shirt down. "I've just been feeling so good I get ambitious."

"It's easy to overdo it and not realize until you get in bed and want to sleep for days, only to realize you can't because baby is trying to separate your ribs," Paige said with a laugh.

Walter tried to look at her, wincing at the movement necessary to do so.

"Yeah, Walt," Toby said. "That's going to hurt for a while."

"I didn't break anything?"

"No. Not that I can tell."

"Well, hey," Toby said with a small smile. "I'm going to tell you what a coworker at my first legitimate job said to me once, when I was complaining about losing a large bet: at least you're not ugly or dead."

* * *

"Imagine how many calories we'll be burning hiking all this way only to fill up these few containers we managed to scrounge up from the plane." Sylvester shifted his weight, bending down to scoop the pond water into a rubber hot water bottle. "We will waste away to nothing."

"If we had to stay here, yeah," Happy said. "But you know we won't be. People will be looking for us. The Gallos, when we don't land at the airfield. They love our kids but they sure as heck don't want to raise them. And we couldn't have gone much off the flight path. We'll get spotted." She handed him a half gallon jug full of water.

"You're right. Of course you're right." Sylvester took the jug and set it next to the other full containers. "I just worry. You know how I worry."

"That I do." Happy smiled. "It'll be fine, Sly. We all came out of this relatively unscathed – except for Walter, that is. It's just a waiting game now. The worst part of it will be trying to get comfortable to sleep with all our bumps and bruises."

"I think there's a bone bruise on my ass."

"Unfortunate." Happy bent and scooped water into one of the plastic bottles that had been in their bags. "All of these are Dasani. You'd think it was product placement or something."

Sylvester laughed.

* * *

"We could just use this field, couldn't we?" Florence asked.

Toby shook his head. "I don't think it's big enough to be able to keep the fire away from everything else. Happy says there's rocks in that field that we can use to build something of a pit."

"Oh, true," she said. She got quiet. "Do you think Walter will be okay?"

Toby sighed. "He's had several bad head injuries since I've known him. But he's responding the way we want him to. He  _should_  be okay."

"Good." She nodded. "When I saw him out like that…it gave me flashbacks."

"Thankfully, not nearly as serious this time."

"Do you think we'll be here long enough to have to eat bugs like Simba the lion?" Florence asked. Her foot kicked at a downed tree. "There's probably some grubs in here."

"I hope not, though they would certainly attend to our protein needs." Toby handed her the armful of twigs he was gathering. "You carry the lighter stuff. I'll drag the branches." He noticed a large downed tree a few yards ahead. Jogging to it, he spotted a branch, an inch or two thick, that he thought had been weakened enough to take it off. The tree was old enough it probably wouldn't be green wood. He could break that.

"Toby?"

He turned. Florence was sitting on the log, staring between her knees at the ground, where the twigs lay in a semi discombobulated pile. Toby cocked his head. "…yeah?"

"Um…" she raised her head to look at him. "I don't know what a contraction feels like. But something just happened and it hurt."

Toby abandoned all thoughts of the downed tree. At Florence's side in a second, he dropped to his knees in front of her. "Where did it hurt? What happened?"

She let out a long breath. "My back was hurting earlier. And it was like that, but this time…" she placed a finger on her belly and made a circle motion. "Everywhere. All around."

"Where was your back hurting? Specifically?"

"Like…my tailbone? In there?"

Toby let out a breath. "Okay. I think we shouldn't panic, but let's start walking back to the plane, yeah?"

"Okay."

Toby shifted his weight until he could slide his arm under her shoulders to help her to her feet. He wished he could assure her nothing was happening, that she was mistaken. But as she shuffled along with him, a tense look on her face, he doubted she'd believe him even if he felt confident enough to provide such reassurance.

They were a little farther from the plane than he'd thought – maybe an eighth of a mile. That wasn't  _far_ , but…

"Toby," Florence said, stopping and hunching over slightly.

"Does it hurt again?" He asked, keeping his arm where it was to support her.

Florence was breathing heavily, her hand on her stomach. "It does," she wheezed. "Oh God, no."

"Breathe," Toby said. He looked toward the plane. "Paige!" He shouted. "Paige!"

* * *

"I really am starting to feel better," Walter said. "I mean, I have the headache. But I know what the bad signs are when it comes to head injuries, and I've had so much worse ones."

Paige was sitting in the chair beside him, her legs over his lap as she held the makeshift ice pack to his head. Bless the freezer holding the ice for staying closed in the crash. "Good," she said. "But I'll feel better when you're looked over in a hospital. This wreckage is not an ideal spot to have a medical emergency."

" _Paige_!"

Paige and Walter both jumped as Toby hopped through the door. "Paige. Have you gone deaf?"

"What?"

"I've been calling you."

"…why?"

"Florence is in labor. I can't get her in here by myself. Can you come out and help, please?"

"Oh no." Paige jumped up, making sure Walter had a hold on the ice pack. "I thought she was okay!"

"I thought so, too. She spotted a little after the crash, but she's been spotting very lightly and very occasionally through the whole pregnancy. No one has ever been concerned."

"Are we  _sure_ …"

"I'm a doctor," Toby snapped. "And you knew it when you were having contractions, didn't you?"

"Fair enough," Paige said, following him out the door.

Florence was kneeling on the ground about twenty yards from the plane, hands pressed on either side of her belly, her cheeks puffing out as she exhaled. "It's so uncomfortable," she said as they reached her. "God, this is the most uncomfortable I've ever been."

"Come on," Paige said, taking one of her arms while Toby took the other. "Let's get you inside."

"We have a first aid kit," Florence said. "There should be something in there."

"Not that's safe pain medication for someone in labor," Paige said. "But don't worry. We've all done this before."

They shuffled toward the plane, and upon reaching it Paige hopped up through the door, reaching out to help guide Florence through it. If she'd been nine months pregnant, or if she wasn't so small, it might have been difficult getting her through it. Thankfully, she managed to re-enter the plane with limited difficulty.

"Okay," Toby said, "this spot is cleanest, and we already have the sheet and padding for your head down here from when we were working on Walter. Florence, lay down right here. Paige? Come support her upper body." Toby was businesslike, but Paige could sense the urgency in his voice, and she knew that that meant Florence could too. "Baby is on their way. Try to stay as relaxed as you can."

"No. No. I'm not even twenty – four weeks," Florence said. "She can't come. You have to put a stop to this."

"We have no betamimetics in the first aid kit," Toby said. "And you've had three contractions in less than ten minutes, meaning your labor is precipitous. There isn't any stopping this, Florence, I'm sorry."

"It's too early." Paige put her hand on Florence's back as the chemist's voice became more shrill. "Toby, you have to stop it."

"Florence," he said gently. "You know I can't."

"Let's get you laid down," Paige said softly.

"No! I – oh God." Florence leaned against Paige and panted harshly. Paige rubbed her back, mumbling in a low, reassuring tone. When the contraction passed, Florence allowed Paige to lower her to the floor of the aircraft.

"Walter," Toby said. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better."

"Good. We need your help. Fetch the pseudo womb from the compartment, please. We need somewhere to transfer the little one to once they're here."

"She can't come yet," Florence said, tapping Paige with her finger. "She can't come yet."

"I know," Paige said. "I know. I know you don't want her to. But she is."

"No, Paige." Florence grabbed a fistful of Paige's shirt. "No, she can't. Where's Sylvester?"

"Here it is," Walter said, reappearing with the device in his arms. "Generator?"

"Yes." Toby took off the stethoscope, grabbing antiseptic from the first aid kid. "Florence, your heart and Baby's hearts sound good. I need to examine you, though, okay? Is this okay?"

Florence nodded.

"Okay. Lift your hips so I can ease these off." Toby put the chemist's yoga pants aside. "Okay. Seems things are moving quickly. I know this is unexpected. I know you're scared, but just try to stay calm and we'll get through this, okay, Florence?"

"Ow," Florence moaned, twisting her upper body toward Paige.

"I'm right here," Paige said, tightening her arms. Even at almost six months pregnant, Florence felt small in her arms.

"Sly, I want Sly."

"I know," Paige said. "I know you do. He and Happy should be back soon."

"No," Florence said. "Animals can prevent their babies from being born if they feel unsafe. Maybe…"

"Florence," Toby said quietly, "I'm sorry. You can't stop this. Fighting it will make it worse."

Florence's voice was small. "She's going to die, isn't she?"

"Florence, try to stay calm," Toby said. "That will help your baby's heart rate. She'll have the best chance that way."

Toby's switch to the pronouns that Florence was using for the baby was not missed by Paige.

Florence started to cry. "She's going to die and her daddy isn't even here to say goodbye."

"Florence," Paige said, shifting her weight to help the laboring woman remain somewhat upright. "Toby is the best there is, you know that. We save everyone, remember?"

"Not…" Florence took in a deep breath. "Not Lane."

Paige and Toby's eyes met. "That wasn't us," she said. "That was Scorpion 2.0. This is Scorpion. Scorpion doesn't fail."

"My water broke," Florence gasped. "It's too early. It's too early." Halfway through the third repetition, she groaned again, turning her head back into Paige.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Paige said. "Just breathe through it. I know it hurts. But it doesn't last forever, just remember that." She tightened her arms around the chemist as she moaned again, her teeth clenched together. Paige could feel her shirt grow damp with Florence's tears.

"She's going to die," Florence said, her voice cracking.

Walter dropped to the floor next to the two women, one of his knees missing her hand as it pressed against the sheet by mere inches. "Listen to me, I know in many cases the notion of 'thinking positive' is simply ridiculous, but here it can assist in a safe delivery. Relaxing will ease the pain as well as your pelvic floor."

"Walter is right," Toby said. "And steady breathing will help the oxygen flow to the baby. We're going to try and ease her into the world, nice and slowly."

"I agree," Florence said. "For another few weeks." She shifted her weight, her nails digging into Paige's skin.

"Breath, Florence, breathe," Paige said. She glanced toward the door, hoping to see the others. "Can someone like…go find Sylvester? She's been asking for him."

"Who is going to do that?" Toby asked. "Is there an extra person here I'm not seeing?"

"She wants him here."

"Please don't talk to me in the third person," Florence said. "I'm right here."

"I'm sorry," Paige said, opening her mouth to repeat that someone should find Sly, but not being able to get a word out before Florence made a gagging sound. "Florence, are you okay?"

"I'm gonna…" Florence rolled onto her side, away from Paige, and as her shoulders jerked Paige heard the tell – tale signs of vomiting. Walter, kneeling on the floor near her head, grimaced and scooted backwards.

"Florence!" Paige rolled her back over, propping her up and brushing hair back behind her ears. Florence was coughing, vomit stuck to her lips. Paige, being the mother of a toddler that she was, pulled her sleeve over her hand and wiped it off without a second thought.

Walter was slightly less composed about the vomit on his knees.

"Get her settled," Toby said. "Baby will be here very soon. Try to relax, Florence. Stress isn't good for the baby."

" _This_  isn't good for the baby!" Florence snapped.

Toby was frantically fiddling with the dials on the pseudo – womb. Paige propped Florence up, her back against Paige's stomach, her body between Paige's knees. She held the smaller woman close, her lips near Florence's ear. "We're right here, Florence. We're right here with you."

"I'm scared, Paige."

"You'll be fine, leg," Walter said reassuringly, taking her hand. "You'll be fine."

"She isn't talking about scared for herself," Paige said. Walter saying  _leg_ , seemingly out of nowhere, made Paige take note that one of Florence's legs was visibly trembling.

Florence's body tensed up and she moaned, her hand squeezing Paige's wrist. Her moan turned into crying, full body crying, accompanied by a sound Paige could only describe as  _mournful._  Paige had made that sound before, twice, most recently seven years ago after she'd broken up with Walter.

The first time was when the heart monitor attached to her father had flatlined.

Paige knew this sound. It was the sound of hopelessness, of agony, not of physical pain but of emotional distress so seemingly impossible to conquer that it  _felt_  like physical pain.

Florence didn't believe her baby would live. She was already mourning.

"We've got you, Florence," Paige said, for lack of any other ideas on what to say. "We're right here. We love you so, so much." Years had passed since saying those words to Florence felt strange or ironic. She  _did_  love her, so did Walter, so did Toby and Happy and Cabe and Allie. Not in the way Sylvester did, but that didn't matter. They'd do anything for her as much as they would for each other.

She'd nearly died to save them once, after all.

"Paige," Florence whimpered, curling her arms around one of Paige's as it kept her still against Paige's chest. The knuckles on her other hand were white as they clutched Walter's hand like it was a lifeline.

"Okay," Toby said. "When baby gets here, she's going straight into this womb. Don't give up hope, Florence. She has about a twenty percent chance. That's one in five. You know how many times we've beaten odds so much worse?"

"That's in a hospital," Florence said. "We're not in a hospital. We're stranded in the middle of the goddamn  _woods._ "

"Hey." Toby raised his eyebrows. "We're still going to  _try._ "

Florence nodded only a moment before tensing up, her body seemingly going completely stiff in Paige's arms, her nails digging into Paige's skin. " _God_ …"

"Keep breathing," Toby said. "Don't stop breathing. Get that oxygen to Baby. Make it easier on yourself, too."

"I wanted a water birth," Florence said. "Perhaps…perhaps I should have gone to the lake."

Paige smiled at her attempt at a joke.

Time blended together – Paige lost count of how many times Florence moaned, turned her cheek against Paige's chest. How many times her leg trembled so badly it was all Paige could focus on. Not too much time could have passed – Sylvester and Happy weren't back yet – but it felt like forever. Paige seemed stuck in time, frozen in that moment when Florence had given that mournful wail.

She realized she too, for all her reassurances, didn't believe the baby would make it.

"Almost here," Toby said, snapping Paige back to the present. "Your body is taking control, Florence. Let it happen. Push  _gently_."

Florence nodded. Paige watched Toby.

"Good," the doctor said, "good. Okay, okay!" He moved slightly, but Paige couldn't see what he was doing. "Okay, now…" Toby moved his hands. "Good job, Florence. Baby is here. You did it. You did so well."

Florence was still moaning, almost too quietly to hear, and she suddenly felt heavier in Paige's arms. "Florence?" she asked. "Florence, how do you feel?"

"Is…" Florence asked of Toby, still breathing hard. "Is…"

Toby was focusing on the tiny being in his hands, a being Paige couldn't even see. She watched Toby's face for clues. "Toby," she said after what felt like an additional forever. "Toby, say something."

Toby was still silent. The silence in the plane was the loudest silence Paige could remember. Then, Toby spoke. "Alive."

"Oh, God." Florence put a hand up over her eyes, her body shaking again as fresh tears escaped her. "Oh, God."


	12. Chapter 12

"Someone get towels," Paige said, realizing that if she didn't snap to, no one was going to – and by no one, she meant her husband, as Toby was busy with the newest addition to what was left of Air Scorpion. "Don't make her lay in all this mess."

"Where are we going to get towels?" Walter asked. "We're in the middle of the woods."

"Last time I checked, we had towels in our luggage. They don't need to be clean to mop up amniotic fluid and vomit."

"Ugh," Florence moaned, shifting in Paige's arms.

"It's okay," Paige said, brushing her hair back over her forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Weak," Florence said. "Things still kinda hurt. Toby, what's going on with my baby?"

"I've got Baby hooked up to the ventilator," Toby said. "And I've got it all toasty warm in there. We're as stable as we can be in these conditions. Birth weight seems to be slightly over one pound, which is a good sign, considering." He reached over and rubbed Florence's leg, which was still trembling. "I know you know there's a long road ahead and we have to get out of here and back to a hospital," he said, "but at least from first impressions, it seems she has everything going for her."

Walter returned with the towels, dropping to his knees. "Toby," he said moments later, "she's still bleeding, it appears." He gave a worried glance at Paige and Florence. "I wasn't, like,  _looking_ …"

"Walter, no one cares," Florence grumbled irritably.

"Yeah," Toby said in a voice that was low but betrayed his concern. "Yeah…"

"Toby?" Paige asked.

"Florence," Toby said, his voice back to the cool, professional tone, "early deliveries can increase potential complications for the mother as well as the baby. There are also certain things that are more likely if the mother is over thirty. One of the situations that is more likely in  _both_  those scenarios is the retention of the placenta."

Paige glanced at Walter at the same time he glanced at her.

Toby continued. "It is possible that you still might pass it naturally, but your baby is almost twenty minutes old now and concern begins after a half an hour. You haven't had any more contractions?"

Florence shook her head. "No. I hurt but…but not like that."

"How do…we fix it?" Walter asked.

"Treatment for a retained placenta is, simply, to get the placenta out. Sometimes, you can do it…manually, but given that we aren't in a sanitary environment, I don't feel comfortable attempting that."

"Can't you just pull on the cord?"

"In some cases, yes, gently, but the cord is very thin," Toby said. "If I tried, it would likely break, and if it broke too far inside her, we would then have nothing. The problem is I don't have any of the hormones that we would inject to stimulate the process, either. Florence, you don't have to pee by any chance?"

"No," she said. "I used the bathroom before we went out to get sticks."

Toby bit his lip. "Baby is too small to breastfeed, and your milk probably won't come in for days, anyway."

"So what do we do?" Paige asked, her voice shriller than she'd expected.

"We hope it comes out on its own, and we hope that we're found fast."

Toby didn't say  _or we'll lose them both_ , but he didn't need to for Paige to know that was how his sentence ended.

There was a sound from outside. All four adult sets of eyes moved in the same direction.

Walter got to his feet. "I'll tell them."

* * *

By the time Sylvester got into the plane, it was obvious Paige and Toby had made some effort to prepare him. Florence was propped up against one of the seats, a blanket covering her from the waist down. Paige was kneeling next to her, but once she saw Sylvester, she got to her feet, putting a hand on his arm briefly before joining Walter outside.

"I'll leave you two alone," Toby said, "but I'll be up in the cockpit if you have any questions."

"Lori," Sylvester said, his voice sounding airy. He dropped down next to her. "Oh, sweetheart."

His hand found hers, and their fingers linked together as Sylvester pressed his lips to her forehead. "Walter didn't tell me much," he said. "Just…just what happened."

"It's a girl," she said quietly. "I haven't seen her. We had to put her right in the womb."

Sylvester drew in a deep breath through his nose. He wanted to cry, to apologize for not being there with her, to be angry at himself that he wasn't. Only one of those things wouldn't be harmful to the woman he loved who had already been through so much. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

She gave him a small smile. "I wasn't alone."

"They were all with you?"

"Toby delivered the baby. Paige held me, and Walter had my hand. I wasn't alone, I promise."

Sylvester lifted their hands and kissed hers. "I'm still sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault." Florence bit her lip. "Sylvester, if we don't get out of here…"

"Happy and Walter have gone for the clearing. They said they'll get help if…if it's the last thing they do."

"I said…" Florence took in a few breaths. "I said I was scared. When it was all happening." She shook her head, tears springing back to her eyes. "Well, it's still happening and I'm still scared."

Sylvester settled in next to her. "So am I."

"It's you. That's nothing new." She gave him a light jab with her elbow.

"Hush." He smiled.

Florence leaned her head against his shoulder. "Sly, did Walter tell you the placenta hasn't come?"

"He did."

"If it doesn't, I could keep bleeding. Get an infection. And if we aren't rescued, I could die."

"Floren – "

"Don't tell me not to talk like that. It's facts." She squeezed his hand again. "And so I don't want you to interrupt me with 'you can tell me later,' or 'don't do this' or any of that bullshit. Because all I'm going to say is I love you, and I love our baby, and that's something I would say anyway. Okay?"

"Okay." Sylvester was quiet for a long moment. "I love you, too. And I love our baby, too."

"Good." She kissed his shoulder, and then put her head back against it.

"How  _do_  you feel?" He asked. "I mean like, despite the whole…"

"Like crap."

"Oh, okay."

She gave a little laugh. "You know I'm a very candid,  _oh ow_." She tensed up, placing a hand on her side.

"Contraction? Placenta? Florence?" Sylvester's heart began racing all over again.

She relaxed back against him. "I don't know what that was, but it didn't do anything." She looked at him. "You probably want to go in the cockpit with Toby and see her."

"I'm not leaving your side, Lori."

" _I_  want you to go into the cockpit and see her."

"I shouldn't see her before you."

"Why does  _that_  matter?"

"Bec…no, you're right. But you're sure?"

She nodded. "I need to talk to Paige about something anyway."

"Okay." Sylvester got to his feet. "I love you. And I'm just saying that because I'd say it anyway."

She smiled again. "Right back at you."


	13. Chapter 13

"This is so stressful," Paige put her hands on her head and walked in a small circle, the forest floor crunching under her feat. "I don't know how to help. I have all these… _feelings_  that I cannot channel into anything and…" She gave a frustrated groan, tugging at her hair as she spun around again.

"Paige, I know you know more about people than me," Walter said, "but I do remember all the times you told me to distract myself if I was spiraling, and you seem to be giving off the signs that would suggest you need the same advice."

"There is nothing that could feasibly distract me right now."

"What do you  _want_  to do?"

"I  _want_ to have sex, but I don't think that's very appropriate."

"Not particularly, no" Walter said, "although it's not like we haven't used that particular form of comfort before."

"True," Paige said. "Though I'm sure I'd feel icky about it afterward, when we got to thinking about Florence and that baby and how they're in there scared for the future while we're off doing it like rabbits among the rabbits."

Walter sat down on a tree stump. "Come here."

"Walter, I just said I don't think we – "

"No, just come here."

Paige did, easing down onto his lap with her feet pointing off to his left. He put his arms around her, kissing her shoulder gently.

"I just keep seeing her leg shaking," Paige said quietly. "I know that's an odd thing to focus on, but once you brought it up in there, it's all I could think about. I can't shake the image and it's scaring me, even though that by itself isn't what's terrifying about all this."

"I brought it up?" Walter asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You did. Do you not remember?"

There was a long, long silence. "Huh. I don't."

"Guess you did hit your head a little too hard," she said, offering up a weak chuckle. "Ugh, this wasn't supposed to be dangerous. This wasn't even a  _mission_ , not really. And yet here we are…clinging, like we always do."

"We've gotten out of worse before."

"And we  _always_  say that like it's a guarantee we'll get out of this."

"And why shouldn't we? If the alternative is giving up?"

Paige glanced off to the side. Bushes. Trees. Cover. "Alright, come on," she said, hopping to her feet and grabbing his hand. "Classiness be damned."

"Paige?" Sylvester popped his head out of the airplane.

 _Dammit,_  Paige thought, before reminding herself that she'd just been debating the appropriateness of dragging Walter off into the woods. "Yeah, Sly?" She asked, "is everything okay?" Letting go of Walter's hand, she jogged toward the plane. "Sly?"

"Yeah, uh, Florence says she wants to talk to you…about something?"

"Oh. Sure." Paige glanced back at Walter, who was nodding at her. "Kay." She hopped up onto the step and crawled back into the plane.

* * *

She didn't look like a baby.

That was Sylvester's first thought, although he caught himself, refraining from blurting it out loud. But the tiny being in the pseudo – womb, temporarily illuminated by the little light, didn't look like any baby he'd ever seen. Her skin was red. Her eyes weren't open. They weren't capable of opening. She was wrapped in a blanket, more like a wash rag, but Sylvester could see all her veins in her visible skin.

She didn't look like a baby.

"She's not supposed to be viable at this stage," Sylvester said. "I know there are exceptions, but…"

Toby put his hand on Sylvester's back. "A lot of hospitals wouldn't resuscitate at this age," he said. "Most of the time, that would just prolong suffering, anyway."

"Neither of us would want her to suffer," Sylvester said quickly.

"I know. I didn't mean…I didn't have to resuscitate her, Sly. She stayed with us on her own."

Sylvester nodded. They stood in silence for what felt like a long time. "I uh…" Sylvester said, "I don't really know what to expect."

"It will be a lot," Toby said. "But again. One step at a time. There's little that will change here and now. It will be about the hospital care once we get out of here."

"I want honesty, Toby."

"She…she could be blind. Or deaf. Or both. She could remain oxygen dependent. She could have cerebral palsy or diabetes or any number of other things. We'll know more once we're rescued and get her to a hospital."

"W – what if we don't?" His lower lip was trembling. He tore his eyes away from the womb and looked at Toby. "Oh God."

"We'll make everything as peaceful as we can for her," Toby said. "But no need to cross that bridge yet. You know this womb recreates the conditions of her mother's uterus much closer than anything in your average hospital, especially with the modifications we made. We'll get her…to where we need to get her."

"As long as we're rescued."

"Sly."

"I know. It's just hard…to process."

"Everything about the past few hours have been hard to process," Toby said. "But it's important to focus on positives. Florence and your baby are both perfectly fine for now."

"For now," Sylvester said. "That's the key.  _For now_."

* * *

"What do you need, Florence?" Paige asked, kneeling down next to her.

"The placenta…nothing's happening. I had a pain, but…"

There were tears in Florence's eyes. Paige reached out and squeezed her wrist. "It still could."

"My baby doesn't need it anymore. My baby isn't in there anymore. So it's just like…it's just started rotting inside me and…" Florence gagged, a hand up to her mouth. "Oh God…"

Paige reached for the motion sickness bag she knew was wedged between the seat and the wall, shaking it out and handing it to Florence just in time.

"Thanks," she said with a cough, rolling up the top of the bag and setting it next to her. "It's not quick, you know. Bleeding out, that can be quick. This…it's an infection. It happens slowly."

"That isn't going to happen to you," Paige said. "Maybe there is something else we can try."

"There is, sort of," Florence said. "I mean, a baby this premature can't breastfeed. But you can hand pump yourself, right?"

"I…don't think they call it that," Paige said. "But yes."

Florence bit her lip. "Maybe if I do that…"

"The placenta might come that way?" Paige cocked her head. "I mean…maybe? I don't know."

"Can you tell me how to do it?"

"I know how. But I've never had to do it this way. Mine always came in before birth, even with Ralph. But I've pumped before, so I'm familiar with it, at least." Paige got to her feet, walked to the door of the plane, and peered out. No one was in sight. She moved to the door of the cockpit. "Knock knock," she said. "I don't want to come in, but both of you stay in there for a bit, okay? We've got girl talk out here." On the muffled responses from inside, Paige gave a satisfied nod and returned to Florence, kneeling back down. "Massage them. That can help for when you really stimulate. Tiny circular motions all the way around."

Florence nodded, shifting her weight and pulling her sweater over her head before beginning. "I don't know if this is going to work," she said.

"It won't hurt to try." Paige put her hand on the smaller woman's shoulder.  _And it might hurt not to._

"Also…sorry," Florence said sheepishly, vaguely gesturing to her exposed skin.

"Oh, Florence," Paige said. "I am not fazed by breasts. I do own a pair myself, you know." Cracking a grin, she got down to instruction. "When you're ready to try and express…" She placed her hands on one of her own breasts, over her clothes, as an example. "Like this. Twelve and six on the clock. But don't pinch." She patted Florence's leg. "There you go. It might take a little bit since this is your first and she wasn't full term."

Florence was biting down on her lip. As the minutes passed, she was growing clearly frustrated. "This isn't going to work," she said eventually, exasperated. "I certainly won't get enough to cause contractions."

"You don't know that. That's why we're giving this the old college try."

Florence's eyes were welling up again. "I'm not doing this right, am I?"

"Maybe try it a little more nine and three?" Paige asked. "Clock, nine and three on the clock."

"You told me twelve and six!"

"Yes. Now try it nine and three. You've got multiple milk ducts, and if you move around a little bit…"

Florence stopped, putting both hands up to her face. "I'm not getting it."

"It sometimes takes a while, especially first time mothers. And especially when you have someone like me trying to explain it, and not a professional. It's hard to explain when you just sort of…have done it."

Florence dropped her hands to her lap. "Can I ask you something really awkward?"

Paige lifted her chin slightly. "You want me to help?"

There was a silence, then a tiny nod as Florence stared at her hands. "Could you? I know it's weird."

Paige put her hand on top of Florence's. "Do you know what a group of Scorpions is called?"

"A nest. But Walter says it's called a cyclone."

"It doesn't really matter what it's called, I suppose. But the important thing about them is they stick together. They will do whatever it takes to make sure the others are safe."

"That's not right either. Most scorpions are solitary and prefer to be by themselves."

Paige sighed. "Okay, but you understand what I'm getting at, right?"

Florence, in spite of herself, gave a little laugh. "I do. Sorry."

* * *

Sylvester sat in the pilot's chair, his feet up resting in the copilot's spot. Simon, with all his jokes, had made their flight out east amusing much more than annoying. Would they have crashed if Simon had been here on the way back? He knew this plane. Maybe he would have been able to do something.

Or maybe not at all.

Sylvester had always had a love hate relationship with what ifs.

He shifted his weight. He was holding the womb – he couldn't actually hold the baby yet, but this was an alternative, cradling the warm dome that was keeping his and Florence's daughter alive.

It would run, without power reinstated to the plane, for seven days.

They needed to get out of here before that.

Toby was back out in the passenger cabin, on Paige and Florence's request. "Don't fret, Sly," Paige had said when she'd come in, pulling Toby aside and speaking quietly to him. "You stay with your daughter. We will manage out here."

Sylvester looked down into the womb. In an effort to recreate the natural darkness a twenty four week old fetus would have, the womb prevented him from seeing clearly into it. All he could make out was a vague shape that was his daughter, and the little green lights on the side that showed that her vitals were where they needed them to be. He cleared his throat, his voice soft and quiet. " _When you smile, I fall apart, and I thought I was so smart…my father wasn't around. I swear that I'll be around for you. I'll do whatever it takes; I'll make a million mistakes…_ " He chuckled. "Maybe I shouldn't keep going. It might distress you to learn that I'm not the singer that Paige is. Although, to be fair, most of us aren't the singer Paige is."

"Did I hear my name?"

Sylvester looked over. Paige was leaning around the threshold, a small smile on her face. "You did," he said. "I was apologizing for not having your talent in the lullaby department." Concern grew over his face. "How's Florence?"

"Well," Paige said, "as you were given news of the birth in a less than exciting fashion, let me try a little here." She stepped into the room, making grand gestures with her hands before striking a pose. "I am happy to announce that we have a complete placenta. Congratulations, Mr. Tipton – Dodd."

He smiled, a gasp of relief escaping his body in a shudder. "Oh, thank God." He got to his feet, clutching the womb. "I need…she needs to…"

"Yes. Come on. Come on." Paige held the door, gesturing for him to go through it.

Sylvester saw Florence still laying on the ground, this time flat, her head cradled by a jacket, and her knees up and apart. Toby was kneeling by her feet, scrubbing the floor with a rag. Next to him was a Tupperware container with a cloth over it.

"Lori," he said, reaching her side.

She looked up. "Sylvester. Is she okay?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"I think I will be. Now."

"Can you sit up?"

She shook her head. "I feel a bit weak again. I might get light headed if I try to sit now."

"Okay. Well…" Clutching the womb so hard his knuckles were white, Sylvester managed to lower himself onto his knees. "I'm going to put her…so you can hold her…" He settled the womb on her stomach, reaching for one of her hands and bringing it up against it. "There. There she is."

Florence's hands rested against the sides, shaking slightly. "Oh, Sly, I'll let her slide right off."

"No you won't." He brushed her hair back. "You won't hurt her. You're her mother."


	14. Chapter 14

"Did I ever tell you about how I dated a girl when I was nineteen who thought that 'sun's out, guns out' meant 'sunny weather is perfect weather to shoot someone?' So she was always horrified when people said that."

"You did not tell me that," Toby said, handing her the water bottle he'd grabbed from the cockpit. "Did you enlighten her?"

"I wanted to keep it going on as long as I could because it was amusing to me," Happy said. "But I ruined it almost right away because I couldn't help being like – "

"That's not what that means, you dummy," Toby finished the sentence right along with her.

Happy chuckled. "Yes." She craned her neck around to look at the dimming light.

Toby smiled at her. "Hey Florence," he said, leaning forward in the seat to look around his wife. "How are you feeling?"

Florence was still on the floor, lying on her side now, propped that way in the same way she was shielded from the actual floor of the plane – with every article of clothing that they had serving as a makeshift sleeping bag. "Tired," she said, shifting her weight. "Weak."

"You need to keep some food down," Toby said.

"I can't. I'm throwing everything up." Florence grunted, and Sylvester rubbed her back gently.

"You can go longer without food," Toby said, "but we really need to get some fluids down you. Your body could be trying to fight something. Baby wasn't delivered in sterile conditions. Anything you can keep down will help."

"Thanks, Toby," Florence said. "Now that you've mentioned that, I'm sure I can magically stop retching."

"Can we make an IV with anything?" Paige asked.

"We don't have anything," Toby said. "We only have the basic first aid kit to work with and the only stuff in there that hasn't been used is the epinephrine and turkey baster. If someone gets stung or needs a wound flushed it's in the cockpit with the womb, but beyond that, we're screwed." His watch beeped – his ten minute reminder to check on the baby. Toby headed back toward the cockpit.

"We shouldn't have taken this plane," Sylvester said. "We shouldn't have been so stupid."

"This plane should have been capable of getting us back," Paige said, "and then none of this would be happening. What on  _Earth_  hit us?"

"A drone of some kind, probably," Sylvester said. "Theoretically, drones can take out planes. It's one of the concerns the public has about them. But I don't know how plausible that is yet, at least ones that aren't military, plus this sounded like more than one and the average person – "

"Marie Lucas," Happy said, sitting straight up in her seat.

"Marcie Lucas?" Paige said in surprise. "Easy," she soothed when Florence grunted again and shifted her weight.

"Yeah. One of our competitors."

"I know who she is," Paige said. "She was doing work with drones, but I don't think…they were for good."

"Yeah. Knocking meteors out of the sky. Saving the planet by preventing a mass extinction."

"She said she was going to try something, prove…prove how powerful they were," Sylvester said. "Am I remembering that right?"

"Yeah," Happy said. "This is her fault. I'm sure of it. Either her or some wacko in the wilderness trying to take out planes."

Paige shrugged. "Honestly considering the stuff we've seen, I'd put the same odds on both."

"Happy?" Walter popped his head into the plane. "It's time to hike."

* * *

Sticks, twigs, logs, no matter what the official name was for pieces of wood that used to be trees, they had them on the pile. Walter glanced around, eyeballing the distance between what they'd gotten together and the trees that lined the clearing as he slung the container of jet fuel they'd siphoned from the plane. Jet fuel didn't light as easily as gasoline did, but it burned hotter when it did. They were dead center in the clearing, as far away from other flammable materials as possible. "This is still a risk," Walter said. "We'll have to calculate wind speed and direction to determine when it is safe to light. And hope we're able to get to the clearing  _to_  light it if we see a plane."

"I've got the matches," Happy said, "thanks to Toby's obsession with hoarding the free stuff that the hotels give out. I'll stay out here until someone comes by, even if it's days from now." She sat on the ground, crossing her ankles. "I've been out in worse. Remember Antarctica?"

"Happy, there is…wildlife…out here."

She raised her eyebrows. "It's a calculated risk, O'Brien."

"I'll stay out here with you."

"You really don't have to do that."

"I know. But isn't most of the things people do things they technically have an option on?"

Happy looked at him for a long moment. "Okay. Fair."

"It's getting dark," Walter observed.

"No shit, Sherlock." Happy immediately dropped her eyes. "Sorry. Defense mechanism."

"You don't have to explain that concept to me, of all people."

"Are you okay?" She asked, raising her eyes to his again. "You banged your head pretty hard."

"I have a bump," Walter said. "But I'm okay. Do I appear to be functioning at a lower level than usual to you?"

"No. I mean, not in any way that isn't explainable given…everything." Happy held onto her ankles. "Why is it always her?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. She almost dies because of the jellyfish. Then she's in the coma after that explosion. And now this. I know we've all had some stuff but it feels like everything just keeps coming back to her."

Walter sat down across from Happy. "We've all had our share. Not that that makes it better."

"I used to hate her, you know."

"I know."

"Paige said that she told her once that back when we were two teams, she wondered if she was just a bad apple, destined to ruin things. It's stupid, but it feels like she's being punished. That she'll always be punished for things that really weren't her fault. That the universe hasn't forgiven her for 'ruining' us, even though we ruined us just as we fixed us again. Or maybe it's just that life isn't fucking fair."

"That would seem more logical," Walter said.

"It's crazy how sometimes it's just hard to let go of things," Happy said. "I think part of me still feels bad for the way I treated her."

"You were being protective of the rest of us," Walter said.

"I was also being a coward. I was afraid of change."

"Sometimes it's good to be reactive, if you've been screwed over enough. It's a defense mechanism."

"It's not always a good one."

Walter nodded. "No, you're right. It's not." The wind picked up, flipping the collar on his shirt out of place. He smoothed it back down.

"I've been working on it. That's really the only way to ensure I don't fall back into that place."

Walter was getting the sense that Happy just needed to talk. That was something he could understand. "That seems like a good strategy to me."

"What's that?"

"Your strate…" Walter trailed off as he heard what Happy was hearing. They looked skyward, jumping to their feet, Happy catching Walter by the wrist and steadying him as he wobbled. "It sounds like a helicopter."

"There!" Happy pointed.

Walter spotted the lights a moment later. "It's coming this way," he said. Glancing around, he bit his lip. "The winds…it could carry the fire." Forest fires could burn thousands of aces. There was most certainly private property somewhere within that range. Possibly innocent hikers. And certainly lots of wild animals. This was only safe for all of them if the fire could be contained.

"This could be our only shot to save the baby," Happy said. "We're in the middle of nowhere. And what if Florence has some sort of infection?  _We_ can last rationing food and eating bugs. She can't."

"Who has been eating bugs?"

"Not the point right now, O'Brien."

Walter felt his stomach tighten. Every instinct he had was telling him it was a bad idea, downright dangerous, to light the signal fire. But the helicopter… "Us," he said, feeling sick, "versus the Greater Good." He turned to Happy, expecting to see the same stormy conflict in her own eyes.

Before he could react, she lit one of the matches and threw it on the pile.


	15. Chapter 15

Florence didn't remember much about the rescue.

She did remember the shaking, the rumbling of the helicopter as it took off. She was only minutes removed from the hard floor that she had laid on for the past two days, and the sensations of being in a moving aircraft again almost scared her, even though that wasn't supposed to make sense.

She remembered crying when she thought that Sylvester wasn't going to be able to come with her.

She remembered asking if the baby was okay.

Beyond that, the ride back to California was a blur, a hum and a light and people talking in low voices and the feeling of Sylvester's hand in hers.

She could tell when they reached the hospital more from the smell of sterilization than anything else. When she opened her eyes and Sylvester told her what day it was, and what time, she was torn between being shocked and totally believing it.

"Did they say what's wrong with me?"

"You have an infection due to delivering and then remaining in an area that hadn't been sterilized," Sylvester said. "You've been given enough antibiotics to heal a small country, and they're confident that you're on the mend."

"Are the others back?"

"I think so. Cabe and Allie had taken the kids and gone to Colorado to aid in the search efforts, and they're on their way back now. The plane that's taking the others home should have beaten them by several hours."

"That's good."

"Happy very nearly burned the whole forest down trying to save y – us. She and Walter managed to keep it under control. It was pretty interesting actually…"

"Sly, I appreciate the small talk, but I really just…need to know."

A long silence followed. Then Sylvester cleared his throat. "We'll know more about her in the morning," he said, squeezing her hand.

"What do we know now?"

"Almost nothing. Except that the womb is certainly the reason she's alive. The conditions inside it are so similar to the human body, with the exception of no amniotic fluid, of course. The specialists were very pleased with it, said it would certainly make the little one's job easier."

"We need to name her," Florence said.

He nodded. "We hadn't really talked about that."

"There wasn't time."

"Yeah."

"You, uh…" Sylvester licked his lower lip. "You called her something when we were getting into the helicopter. You asked if she was okay, and if she was coming with us. But you used a name. Do you remember what that was?"

Florence bit her lip. She did. Now that he mentioned it, she did. She shifted her weight, flexing her fingers against Sylvester's hand. "I called her Tilly. I don't know why."

"I like it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. And I looked it up – it's usually short for Matilda, which means 'strong in battle'."

Florence wrinkled her nose. "Now I think it's a cliché and I don't like it."

"Wait, really?"

"No." She gave a little laugh. "I mean, meanings of names aren't my thing but I still…something had me like it."

"What about a middle name? We'd need to offset the Ts."

"Ugh, Sly, I just had a baby, I'm too tired to think about middle names."

He smiled. "I can see you're feeling better."

"A little."

"It's something."

"Yeah."

"The others want to visit you as soon as you feel up to it. Obviously not today since they're still getting home and everything, but…"

"I want to see them."  _I need to see them._  The more awake Florence felt, the more the weight of everything that happened – and everything that would happen going forward – and she needed her friends. The Florence of five years ago would have withdrawn. But she wasn't that Florence anymore.

* * *

Bert, Simon's father and the owner of the plane, met them at the airfield.

"We are so sorry about your plane, sir," Paige said as soon as they were all back on solid ground. "We –"

Bert held up a hand. "We are working on finding out who was responsible for the crash. From what I've been told, it was not your team. My understanding may change if the investigation reveals you  _were_  at fault, of course, but as of now I'm channeling my anger toward whoever owned those things that knocked you out of the sky."

Paige glanced around, toward the sole building in the immediate vicinity. It appeared relatively deserted. She looked the other way. Just the field, the strip, and the treeline.

"We will be able to provide a detailed incident report of the incident," Walter said. He frowned. "I said incident too much there, didn't I?"

"Where's Cabe? Allie? Where's my baby?" Paige asked. She realized her voice took on a higher pitch when she mentioned Amber. But  _I thought they were going to meet us here._

"Not here – but don't panic. When the plane didn't land, he immediately went to look for you. Him and Allie and the kid are in Colorado. Or they were. They'll be back in a couple hours." Simon gestured to the building. "There are two apartments in the basement if you want to stay there and wait for them to land."

"We'll take you up on that," Toby said, glancing at Happy. "We're exhausted and could use a few hours of sleep."

"Absolutely," Bert said. "The apartments are small and not fully furnished, but there's a bed and running water and that should do for the short term." He looked at Paige and Walter. "You want the other one?"

Paige nodded. "Thank you."

Bert got them the keys and handed one to Toby and one to Paige. "Just drop them through the mail slot when you leave, okay?"

"Thanks," Paige said. "We appreciate it."

"Thank you," Walter echoed, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

Paige looked at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just…jet lagged."

"It was a two hour flight," Happy said.

"I'm fine."

He seemed fine, at least once they got inside. Paige smiled when he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck, assuring her, even though she already knew, that Amber would be with them again soon. "I know, Love," she said, hugging him back as best she could when her back was against his chest. "I just miss her so much."

"I know. I do, too. Maybe she will have made progress on her ABCs while we were gone."

Paige sighed inwardly.

She'd called Ralph on the flight home – he already knew she'd been missing, and she learned that when he answered the phone with "God, Mom, I'm going to be gray by the time I'm twenty – five."

"You have good genes. I'm thirty – nine and I don't have gray hair."

"Don't tell me all of that color is natural."

"It is!"

Well, most of it was. There was that one streak, an inch thick, that had basically gone white shortly after Amber was born that Mahkynzeigh – and yes, that was seriously how it was spelled – did an excellent job of matching to the rest of her hair every four weeks. And back to Ralph, Paige supposed for all they knew, Drew could be totally gray by now, at forty – one. She really had no idea.

"Here's an idea," Walter said, bringing her back out of her memories of the phone call, "we trade this mattress for the one in our bedroom."

"You will never let that go, will you?" She asked. "It is  _not_  that bad." She climbed onto the bed next to him, fluffing a pillow.

"It is absolutely that bad and you know it. It was almost an improvement to sleep in that plane chair."

Paige grinned, scooting over to his side of the bed and straddling his hips. "We've got a few hours. Now we can distract ourselves like we wanted to in the woods. But this time without worrying." She gave him a flirtatious smile and bent, kissing the side of his jaw before moving to his neck. She could feel his hands come up to rest on her thighs, but otherwise he remained still, staring up at the ceiling. She lifted her head. "You already seem pretty distracted."

"Hmmm?" His eyes flickered over to meet hers. "Oh. Sorry. Come here."

She put her hand on his chest, stopping him from pulling her back down. "Walter, are you feeling okay?"

"Yes. Come here."

"You don't want to. It's okay."

"No, I do. I just need to get out of my head is all."

"If there's another way you'd like to do that, I'm all ears," Paige said. "I just thought you – "

"No," Walter said, "no other way. I promise." He sat up, sliding his arms around her and linking his fingers at the small of her back. "Nothing is better than being with you."

She knew he meant that. But she also knew he was lying to her.  _It's okay if you're tired or just not feeling it._

She opted to not say that out loud. She was too damn stressed to give him another lesson. "Look," she said, swinging her leg back over and laying on her back next to him, "let's get some rest in before Cabe and Allie bring Amber back. That's what we really came in here to do anyway."


	16. Chapter 16

Happy popped her head into the room. "Hey. Are you guys ready?"

Sylvester looked over at Florence, who was nodding in Happy's direction. "Yeah," he said, "we are."

"Okay kids," Happy said. "Don't run."

Ellie didn't run – but she barely contained herself, high stepping over to the opposite side of Florence's bed from Sylvester. Tad was right on her heels, holding Amber's hand to direct her. When they reached Florence's side, he let go of her hand and put his hands on her shoulders.

There had been debate, over the past two days, over how much, if anything, to tell the three Scorpion minors. Paige and Toby had been in favor of shielding them, but Happy and Walter argued that a simplified version of events would be better to ease them into whatever the ultimate outcome was. If Tilly came home, they would need to explain her presence, and if she didn't, Tad, at least, would be old enough to remember that Florence was pregnant and nothing came of it. Once Happy had brought up how upset Tad and Ellie were when Florence was in a coma while Paige was pregnant with Amber, Paige and Toby had agreed that telling them a watered – down version was the best option.

All three children had wanted to see Florence. And two days after arriving at the hospital, her infection was under control and she was beginning to feel better, so it was arranged.

"Do you remember when the others came to visit you?" Sylvester had asked, referring to the visit of the adults the day before.

Florence had shaken her head. "Not really. But I do remember smelling Paige's perfume."

None of the kids were wearing perfume, but Sylvester was confident that she was much more alert today. She would remember this.

"Are you fine?" Amber asked, jumping up and down in an attempt to see. Florence reached out her hand, giving the girl something tangible. "I'm fine, Amber. Don't let the hospital scare you."

"Is your baby fine?" Tad asked. He had morphed from a loud, rowdy child to much more of a quiet and reserved one. Sylvester – and, he knew, Tad's parents – credited the arrival of Amber with the change. Ellie came too quickly after Tad for him to have developed the need to be a role model for her, but he'd been in school already when Amber was born, and as she grew, became mobile, and started learning, he took his role as Older Cousin very seriously.

"Yeah," Sylvester said, giving him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "The baby is fine, for now. She is very small, though."

"Momma said she was born very early," Tad said. "Is she going to be okay?"

"We hope so. Things look good so far, considering everything."

"What if she's not?" Ellie asked, looking at Florence. "What if she's not good?"

Florence and Sylvester exchanged glances. Happy opened her mouth to say something, but Florence beat her to it. "We are hoping to not have to confront that," she said carefully.

"If she dies, can you have another baby?"

"Ellie Quinn!" Happy snapped. The children shared the same hyphenated name as Happy, Quinn – Curtis, but she shortened it when she was angry. It was the opposite of what parents typically did, but the short, sharp effect worked well on Ellie and Tad. "Apologize to Aunt Florence and Uncle Sylvester for being rude."

Tad gave his sister a hard nudge. "What if someone had asked if your stupid Barney doll was going to die?"

"I just asked if she can have another baby!" Ellie said, looking upset. "Maybe something's wrong with her tummy!"

"Ellie," Florence said, "I can have another baby. Nothing is wrong with my tummy."

"Good," Ellie said, biting her lip.

"Ellie," Happy said again.

The girl looked over at her mom, then dug the heel of her shoe into the linoleum. She turned back to the Tipton – Dodds. "I am sorry."

"Thank you, sweetie," Sylvester said.

Amber was still clinging to Florence's hand. "When can she play?"

"The baby?"

"Yes." Not for a while, Amber," Sylvester said. "She can't even go home for a while."

Amber wrinkled her nose. Florence squeezed her hand. "I'm sure she will love to have you play with her once she's ready."

"Can we see her?" Ellie asked.

"Not y-et," Sylvester said. "She's in a special part of the hospital."

"Why?" Amber asked.

"Because she's so small," Sylvester said.

"I'm small."

"Not that small," Tad said. "You're not a baby."

"You were a baby in a zillion years," Ellie said.

"Okay," Happy said, clapping her hands together. "I think it's time we head out."

Ellie and Amber shouted their goodbyes to Florence and Sylvester and darted toward Happy and the hallway immediately behind her. The mechanic's eyes narrowed. "No running!"

Tad didn't follow. Standing awkwardly beside the bed, he rubbed his foot against a scuff mark, then took another step closer. He looked at the ground, his teeth closed around his lower lip.

"Hey," Florence said, scooting over closer to Sylvester. "Come up here, Taddy."

His eyes lit up. Removing his shoes, he carefully hopped up on the bed and laid on his side, his head on Florence's chest. He remained quiet even as she slid an arm around him. "It's okay, little guy."

"Okay," he said quietly.

Happy stepped back into the doorway, seemingly about to call Tad over, but she stopped short at the scene in front of her. She glanced at Sylvester. He smiled and waved her away.


	17. Chapter 17

"We can keep you one more night – "

"No."

It had been just that long of a conversation, once Florence learned that she could go home if she wanted. She hated hospitals. She'd spent too many days of her life in them already, and if she had the option to spend tonight in her own bed, in her own home, eating the food she wanted, well, she was going to take it.

She'd be fine.

When they got back to their place, Sylvester went to put their things away – bless him, he hadn't left the hospital the whole time she was there, alternating his time between her, Tilly, and getting fitful bursts of sleep. While he unpacked, which she knew meant meticulously sorting and putting anything clean away rather than just throwing everything into the hamper or dropping it on the floor.

She still dumped everything in one spot when she unpacked. So he usually did it. They supported each other.

She eased herself down on the couch. She knew she had to go to bed, but she'd spent so much time in a bed lately that she just wanted to sit in front of a television and not have to worry about knocking IVs out of place or accidentally pressing a call button.

She turned on the television. An old game show was on. Perfect. Nothing violent, nothing scary, nothing that required too much thought. Just good old multiple choice trivia and simple calculations of risk versus reward.

She didn't realize how tired she was until her eyelids began to droop during a commercial. She knew she should get up, she'd be sore later if she fell asleep like this, and she was sore enough already. But it was so relaxing to be in her own home. Home was familiar. Home was comfortable and safe. And she'd rather watch these old 80s trivia shows than whatever soap operas were on at the hospital, so...

"Lori.  _Lori_."

She jolted awake. "No whammies!"

He raised an eyebrow. She shook her head, frowning. "I must have dozed off."

He smiled. "Come on," he said gently, holding out his hands. "Let's get to sleep. We can go see Tilly first thing in the morning."

"Maybe we shouldn't have left her." Florence was suddenly wracked with guilt. She went home. Her baby was still at the hospital, machines and wires monitoring everything she did, other machines and other wires helping her do the things that the other machines and wires were monitoring. Who was she to bolt home as soon as the doctors reluctantly gave her the okay?

"No," he said, "there's nothing we can do for her tonight. You know that. It's better for you if you're back home."

"I know. I just…"

"I know."

"Glad I have you to keep me logical," she said with a small smile, taking his hands and letting him pull her to her feet. "Hug me?"

He did, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. "Bed?"

"Yeah."

They walked down the hall, turning right to go into their room.

Sylvester stopped suddenly, and when Florence gave him an odd look, she noticed him staring at the wall next to the doorway.

The photo wall. Ten weeks, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…

Florence couldn't help but scan the line. Sixteen, seventeen, weeks eighteen and nineteen she'd worn the same top without realizing it until after, twenty, twenty – one, twenty – two…and twenty – three.

Today was the day they would have taken another. Because as of today she would have been twenty – four weeks pregnant, and they said that they wouldn't be late with the photo again, way back in week twelve.

Florence walked over to the week twenty – three photo. She studied it, her hands resting on her belly. She looked almost exactly the same as she did seven days ago. Visually, there was no progress. And there wouldn't be.

She wouldn't ever have the bump that sat up and out, like when kids would stick basketballs under their shirts to play house. Her ankles wouldn't swell. She wouldn't feel every tiny movement, know every second when the baby was asleep or awake.

She was supposed to still be pregnant. She was supposed to have her daughter with her right now, safe and warm and growing. Instead, Tilly was six miles away, fighting for her life.

Florence didn't realize she was crying until she felt Sylvester's arms around her.

* * *

One way that Amber one hundred percent took after Paige was her ability to fall asleep to certain people's voices, if they had that lulling ability, be it narration of a nature documentary or, as Amber's grandma would put it, "that one about grisly murder."

Thankfully tonight's lullaby was a penguin show narrated by Morgan Freeman, so Paige didn't have to question her parenting skills while letting her toddler doze off to Forensic Files. Granted, a penguin did die, but Amber was sound asleep long before the whole circle of life concept was addressed. Paige carried the girl to her room, placing her stuffed animal well within reach should she wake up and be afraid.

"Should she really be alone?" Walter asked when Paige returned to the living room.

"Who?"

"Tilly."

Paige sat down next to him. "She's in the NICU. She's not alone. People are checking on her constantly."

"People. Not us. None of us are there."

"We wouldn't be able to see her right now anyway. We aren't her parents, and it's almost ten o'clock at night."

"We shouldn't have left her." Walter sounded almost agitated. "She's family."

Paige swung both her legs sideways across his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "I'm worried about her too, Walt. But there's nothing we can do tonight. Sylvester and Florence are at home, too."

"Which is even more why someone else should be there." He sighed. "I just hate the idea of her being miles from us. She's still supposed to be with them."

"I know." She was supposed to be growing inside Florence, getting stronger, more developed, more  _prepared_. "But considering, she's in wonderful shape. You know that. And I know thinking positive is so much more easily said than done, but sometimes it's the only thing you can do to feel any level of sane."

"You can get into that mindset so much more easily than I can."

"No," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm just better at pretending."


	18. Chapter 18

Amber sat on the floor in front of Walter, her knees bent and ankles crossed in an attempt to sit criss cross like he was. She was staring at the bright yellow rubber ducks that he had sitting on the floor in between them. "Duck."

"Yes. Good job. Ducks."

"Would be more encouraging if she didn't call every bird a duck," he said glancing over to where Paige sat, at the little table by their living room window while she worked.

Paige smirked. "Ducks! Ducks, Amber! Quack quack!"

Amber giggled, flapping her arms. "Quack quack quack!"

"That's right. Smart girl." Paige went back to her laptop. Amber grinned at Walter.

"Any luck over there, Mom?" Walter asked.

"Allie sent an e-mail with attached photos of the fragments Cabe and his contact found. It does appear to be a drone that hit us. But they won't know more, or from where, until they can find the rest of it."

"Hmmm." Walter glanced down at his daughter, who was pressing her finger down on one of the ducks. "Do you know how many ducks there are?" Walter asked. There were three, sitting next to each other facing the toddler.

"Ducks," Amber said, pointing.

"Yes," Walter said. "Yes, they're ducks."

"That's right, Amber," Paige called, "you keep Daddy in line. Make sure he keeps his ducks in a row."

"I didn't know I married Uncle Toby," Walter said to Amber.

"Uncle daddy."

"That's not how it works," he said. "This isn't Arkansas, Amber."

"Oh boy," Paige said, "now I'm the one that married Uncle Toby."

"This is getting weird, so I'm going to proceed with playing with my daughter," Walter said, "who I did not have with Toby Curtis."

Paige chuckled. "No, you most certainly did not."

"Okay, Amber," Walter said. "We're playing a game called How Many. Do you know what that is? It means I'm going to ask you how many ducks are here. Okay?"

"Okay."

There were four yellow ducks between them. Walter pointed. "One? Or more?"

"More."

"Good." Walter smiled. He added two more rubber ducks. "One? Or more than one?"

"More."

"Good girl." He held out his hand. Amber smacked it. She had become a fan of high fives. "Now." He took the two ducks back. "How many?"

"How many," she repeated.

"One or more than one, Ambie?"

"One."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"One, or more than one?"

"More."

Walter narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you sure?"

"No."

He sighed. "Amber, can we focus?"

"Walter," Paige said from her desk, "she doesn't have the attention span of an adult."

"It's just been a couple minutes. You know that toddlers can focus for a couple minutes. That's why time outs are the same number of minutes as you are years old."

"Yes, but…"

"You're not the only one who knows how to parent our child," he said shortly.

"I didn't say that."

"I didn't say you said that, I'm only saying that…"

"No," Amber said, her face crumpling. "Mommy Daddy no."

"We're not fighting, sweetheart," he said reaching for her. Amber flinched, leaning away. Walter looked at her in alarm. "Ambie, Mommy and I aren't yelling. Promise."

"Pomise?"

"Yeah, promise. Come here, lovie."

Amber crawled over to him and he hugged her close to him. "It's okay, it's okay."

Paige got up from her work space, crossing the room and dropping to her knees next to Walter. "Come on, group hug."

* * *

Tilly was very still.

It made sense. She didn't have the muscle development that a full – term baby would. But just because something made sense didn't make it comforting. Florence felt sick looking into the incubator.

"Hi, Tilly," Sylvester said, his voice quiet. "I'm glad your ears are working. Probably. Maybe. Ahem. But you're old enough that it's possible you hear us, anyway. It's Dad and Mommy."

"Not Daddy and Mommy?"

"As glad as I am that Happy has banned Toby from referring to himself that way in a different context, I still kinda…" he shuddered. "What society has done to that word is a travesty."

Florence gave him a small smile.

"Tilly girl, I'm sure you're used to our banter." Sylvester gave a deep sigh. "We wish we could spend more time with you. But you need to grow and get strong and the nurses…"

"The nurses are the best at doing that," Florence finished.

"Yeah." When Sylvester glanced at her, Florence smiled again. Puttig his hands together and rubbing them slowly, Sylvester gave another sigh. "I'm terrible at talking to her."

"No you're not. You did a great job talking to me."

"I updated you on everyone's lives. She doesn't know any of them. She doesn't know anything. I could read from the phone book and she wouldn't know the difference."

"So maybe we should just talk to each other in front of her. Like we would if I was still carrying her." The last two words came out differently as Florence fought the urge to cry. As is, the nurses  _were_  best equipped to care for Tilly. But  _she,_  Florence Tipton – Dodd, was the one who was  _supposed_  to be doing it. Tilly wasn't supposed to be born yet. All these milestones they were sitting around waiting for while she lay nearly motionless in the incubator were supposed to happen within the safety of Florence's body.

"I like that idea," Sylvester said. "So yesterday Happy was reading me an article about…"

"Do you think she really can hear us?" Florence asked. "Or maybe she's deaf. Sly, what if she's deaf?"

"Then she's deaf, and we learn how we can communicate with her, and we proceed. Deaf isn't a bad thing."

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing, I'm saying if she can't hear us, she has no idea we're here. We can't hold her. We can't touch her. Not yet, anyway. She got put into this big scary world early and now she doesn't know her parents are right here. She might be scared. I know they can't really distinguish fear until they're older but they can be stressed and overwhelmed and…"

"Stressed and overwhelmed," Sylvester said. "Just like her mom."

"Like you aren't both of those things, too.

"I am. You know I am."

"Sorry. It's just so much. So much to think about."

"I know. I just think we have to focus on one thing at a time. Her making it day by day, week by week. Any health problems she has, we will do our best to make sure she has the best quality of life possible."

"But that's the thing, Sly. We  _can't_  just worry about one thing at a time. We have to plan for the future. What if she has lifelong health issues and we  _aren't_  prepared to help her? What if she…" Florence's eyes widened. "What if she's not able to survive without assistance? What if needs constant care and something happens to us and we aren't there for her and then she ends up in a situation like that woman from – "

"Florence," Sylvester said. "Trust me, my mind is going at light speed. I guarantee anything you're thinking about, it's crossed  _my_  mind about fifty times. Okay? We will get through it. But we  _have_  to take this one day at a time. If we let ourselves get lost in everything, we'll go out of our minds."

"But life doesn't hit us one day at a time," she said, wringing her hands. "It's not like the brain damage will be like 'oh hey, we were going to get really bad but since you're currently dealing with debt and vision problems we'll just hold off until you're better equipped to handle it' or 'oh we're Tilly's respiratory system and we were going to have a severe asthma attack but since her mother just died in a nuclear reactor we'll just be healthy instead.' Things hit people all at once. And we have to be ready for that."

Sylvester put his hands on her upper arms and kissed her forehead. "I know. Trust me. My brain is doing everything you're doing, but silently."

He wasn't making a joke about how women didn't know how to shut up, but Florence bristled at the word choice anyway. "Okay. I'll just be quiet."

"No, I didn't mean that. I just mean we're thinking the same things."

"She can't hear us."

"We don't know that."

"No, I mean she can't hear us like this. We sound tense and upset. That will make her worse." Florence looked at the monitors. "Look. Her heart rate has changed. And her blood pressure, is that thing measuring her blood pressure?"

"Those changes are barely noticeable."

"But they changed. Nurse. Nurse!" Florence said, startled at how shrill her voice sounded. "Nurse, something's wrong!"

Two nurses, a man and a woman, rushed over immediately. "Okay, Tilly," the man said, "let's just get a look at you."

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Florence said, her voice quieter but still louder than she'd like. Tears were springing to her eyes. Her baby was so tiny. So red. So still.

"Slight variation," the woman said quietly.

Florence couldn't see Tilly, or what they were doing. She saw the man turn toward them, looking up at Sylvester, and she realized her husband was standing behind her with his hands on her arms. He was speaking to Sylvester, and then she felt her body being turned and headed out of the room.

"What's the matter with her? She said, whirling to face him as soon as the door was closed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing, you were just…"

"Oh God. I was making a scene."

"No, you were just upset. It's okay."

There were tears in his eyes, too, but Florence saw the reassurance there that she was looking for. "Then why…"

"Stuff fluctuates. You know that."

"Right." She nodded. "Right." She dropped onto a bench that was sitting in the hallway, putting her head in her hands. "It's not like me to react like this. I can usually keep it together."

Sylvester sat next to her, opening his mouth to speak, but continued before he could do so. "Thank you. You help." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I love you, Sly. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he said, sliding an arm around her.

"Kiss me," she said quietly, before leaning in and kissing him. He shifted his weight, allowing him to kiss her back properly, and she curled her fingers around his shirt to keep him close. Kissing him was comforting.  _This is Sly. This is your husband. Your other half. You're his wife. His Everything – To – Me._

"I love you," she whispered again in between kisses, her eyes hot from the tears. When they broke apart again, she dropped her head, her forehead on his shoulder. She started to cry.

She was crying because she was sad, scared, and overwhelmed. When the nurse came to tell them that yes, Tilly was fine, she kept on crying.

For the same three reasons.


	19. Chapter 19

The Crank – Miller petting farm was always a favorite location for a Quinn – Curtis family outing, and Happy was especially excited about taking the kids on this particular day. Things had been gloomy the past week, and not even the best of Toby's magic tricks could put much of a smile on their children's face. Ellie could be distracted by a change of scenery. Tad was a slightly different story – he needed a direct distraction for himself. At the top of the list of things he did was distract his little sister.

Happy watched as Ellie patted the shoulder of an animal while the employee watched and smiled.

"What's her name?" Ellie asked.

"This is Mollie," the girl said. "She's our oldest alpaca, as well as the one who has lived with us the longest."

"Does she have a baby?"

The girl bit her lip. "Well, she's had them in the past. Not this year."

"Did it die?"

"Oh, no, just older animals often don't have as easy of a time becoming pregnant…"

Ellie started to cry, shaking her hands and then putting them up over her face. Tad rushed to her. "Ellie," he said, "what sound does that goat make?"

"Blee," she said quietly through her hands.

"What does a cow make?"

"Moo."

Looking uncomfortable, the worker moved away, putting a smile back on her face as she approached another family. "Hi there! Come to see our mamas and babies today, have we?"

"Good boy, Tad," Happy mumbled under her breath. She stepped closer to her children. "Isn't it so nice to see Mollie having a nice retirement at the place she's lived for so long? That's very nice, isn't it, Ellie?"

"Did her baby die?"

"No," Happy said, although she honestly had no idea. "No, she probably is just too old to have babies, just like some people."

Ellie looked from her mother to Tad, then bit her lip and walked over to another pen. "Can I go in with them?"

"Just remember what we talked about with the goats, baby," Happy said. "Close the first door before opening the second. Sheep can escape too."

"I'm worried about her," Tad said when Ellie entered the pen and squealed with delight as a couple lambs approached her.

"About your sister? It's sweet of you to be worried, Tad," Happy said.

"She's worried about Tilly. She talks about her a lot."

Happy nodded. "I know. But we have to try and keep her mind off of it. You're doing a wonderful job of helping her."

Tad crossed his arms, staring down at the ground. "It's good the longer she's okay, right? The longer there aren't any problems?"

There had been problems. Problems that were entirely to be expected with how early she had come into the world. But Tad didn't know about them, because they had been handled. "Every day that she's still okay is a good sign, Tad," Happy said.

Tad took his mother's hand. "You and Dad worry, too."

"We do," she said. "We're just better at, adults are better at distracting themselves or fixating on something else. It's called compartmentalizing, if you want to get really technical. But basically it's just our way of handling things." She squeezed Tad's hand. "When you get big, you'll get better at it. To be honest, it kinda sucks too. It's what we call a no win situation."

She and Tad looked over, startled, at another shriek from Ellie. A lamb had knocked her over. She was laughing as she put her hands on its forehead. "See?" Happy said. "Sometimes it  _is_  better to be a little."

"I'm not very little or very big," Tad said.

"That's true, Taddy," Happy said. "You're stuck in the middle." Not quite old enough to push something completely out of his mind, and not quite young enough to forget about the little girl in the NICU just because a little baby sheep was nosing him. Maybe Tad had it the worst of the Quinn – Curtis clan.

"Hey," Toby said, approaching them with a drink carrier. "I got us slushies."

Happy watched as Tad solemnly took one, thanked his father, and sat on one of the chairs, slurping in relative silence.

* * *

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven floors up. And…

Walter counted carefully, right to left, looking for window twelve. That was, by his and Sylvester's calculations, the window that was closest to where baby Tilly lay in the NICU. They'd figured it out the previous night, when he, Paige, and Amber had accompanied the new parents on their visit to their daughter.

Tonight, Walter was here alone.

Florence had gotten, to use her words, "worked up" the past two times she'd visited, and she and Sylvester had agreed it was probably better for her to stay home the next day and get some extra sleep. Walter didn't know for sure, but he suspected Toby had given her something to help her in that respect, since the feeble milk supply she and Paige had managed to create in the plane had disappeared almost as quickly as it'd shown up and therefore she didn't need to worry about medication endangering Tilly.

So, the Tipton – Dodds were at home, hopefully asleep. Walter had only told Paige he was going out for a drive to clear his head, an idea that she'd encouraged. "Just be careful of your speed," she'd told him with a playful wink combined with a look that told him she was in fact serious. After his awful car accident in the first year they'd known each other, and considering frustration and despair had been the factors that had resulted in him being in a place to be hoodwinked by a deer, and his subsequent head injuries, Walter knew he couldn't blame Paige for being worried about him.

But he wasn't driving like a mad man tonight, or even doing anything dangerous at all. He was simply sitting in his car, watching Tilly's window, feeling better for being there even though she had no idea anyone was watching at all.

He sipped his water. This was the same hospital his sister had died in. His sister. Sylvester's first wife. The one who very well could have been the mother this baby, if things had happened differently.

None of them, Team Scorpion nor the hospital, could have saved Megan. Walter could have done nothing differently, not focused more on his research, not spent more time with her in her last few months, nothing. He couldn't do anything for Tilly, either. He couldn't even properly visit her.

But he could do this. Sit outside, as close to the smallest and newest member of Scorpion as he could. Put out every effort, like he'd failed to do for Megan the last fall she was alive because he'd been in denial. Because he'd been scared.

He couldn't be scared this time. Sylvester and Florence were feeling that enough. This time, his job was to be strong.


	20. Chapter 20

When Florence awoke, her heavy eyelids and achy body gave her the impression that she hadn't been asleep for long. And yet, when she grabbed her phone – and deleted all 27 notifications with one swipe because the last thing she wanted to do was be social – she saw it was already nearly noon.

She wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep. But that wasn't like her. She needed to be busy. If she slept, she would be even more behind when she woke up.

She wasn't sure what exactly she would be behind on. But she still felt like she would be  _behind_.

"Sylvester?" She asked as she walked into the hall. There was no response, but she could hear him shuffling around in the kitchen area. "Sly, you let me sleep for too…" she trailed off upon reaching the kitchen and surveying the scene ahead of her. "What…is this?"

He chuckled. "Flowers. What does it look like?"

"It looks like the Mojave Desert threw up all over our kitchen."

He chuckled. "Yeah…they came from three different florists. Six of these are from the same one."

"Who are they all from?"

"Some people whom Scorpion has helped…" Sylvester parted some leaves to find the next tag "Sommers, Elia…looks like some of our competitors, too, Thomas Beek, Dr. Ewart…oh, Aimee! That was sweet of her."

Florence turned, leaving the kitchen and sinking down on the couch in the living room, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Something wrong?" He asked. "I mean, other than…" he added when she raised her eyebrows.

"Everyone's sending flowers like it's a funeral."

Sylvester grew quiet. Then, "I don't think that's why they're sending them, Lori."

"No one sends flowers for a happy occasion."

"Yes they do. Birthday, Mother's Day, Wedding, Anniversary, Easter, Secretary's Day…"

"Okay. Fine. But they don't send them to  _us_  on those days."

"Florence," he said softly, "they mean well."

"Yeah, it's just the whole concept of…w _hat?_ " She snapped. "The door," she clarified when he looked at her in alarm.

Sylvester headed for the door with a curious look on his face. Florence wondered if it would be another mess of floral decorations, but the person on the other side wasn't a delivery person; she was someone very familiar to them. "Oh, hey, Allie," he said.

"Hi, sweetheart," Allie said with a smile. She was carrying several large bags. They did not appear to contain flowers, and Florence breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi, Florence. How's Tilly?"

Florence bit the inside of her cheek and didn't answer. Allie didn't seem to notice, heading for the kitchen.

Sylvester followed closely behind. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but…what are you doing here?" Allie never showed up without Cabe.

"I'm here to cook," Allie said. "I would be here to clean as well, but I know you prefer to get that done your way. So I've bought a bunch of groceries and I'm going to transform them into meals, because I know both of you often forget to eat, and you've got to keep your strength up."

From her spot on the couch, Florence smiled. "That's very kind of you, Allie."

Allie set the bags down and crossed the room to sit beside her. "How is everything?"

"I'm okay." She shot Sylvester a look. A  _don't tell her I'm not sleeping, don't tell her I'm anxious about everything_  look. A  _none of that stuff is anyone's business_  look.

Sylvester busied himself looking in the paper bags.

"Good," Allie said. "I'm glad. And how is the little one?"

"She's fine," Florence said. "I mean, breathing is about all we can look for right now, so…as well as to be expected."

She sounded clinical. Too clinical. Detatched.  _Is Allie going to think I don't care about the baby? My baby,_  she corrected her thought immediately. A wave of guilt surged within her.

"She's got another week under her belt now," Allie said. "That's such a good sign. Every day is a good sign. Walter says he's been keeping an eye on her when you guys are here recuperating."

Florence felt like she hadn't known that. But she had to have. She had been horrible at remembering things the past few days. "Yeah. He's nice. Helpful, I mean. He's helpful."

"Well, I'm going to get to cooking," Allie said. She patted Florence's knee. "Sly, come over here and sit with her."

Florence was glad when Sylvester joined her on the couch. Allie's brief touch reminded her how isolated and alone she felt. She leaned against her husband, tucking her head into his arm.  _What on Earth would I be without you?_

Thankfully, Allie was too busy working on unloading and sorting the ingredients in her bags to notice when she started to cry again, turning her face into her husband's sleeve to hide her tears.

* * *

"Here, Amber," Paige said. "I have some paints for you. Do you want to finger paint?"

"Painting!" Amber jumped up and down.

"Don't stomp. Come here and sit on the chair. Walt, you want to paint with us?"

"Finger painting is messy."

"Easy there, Sylvester." Paige winked.

He rolled his eyes. Crossing the room, he opened the cupboard and took out a plate.

"No, Walter, use the paper plates."

"Single use cutlery is bad for the environment."

"So is the plane that's still stuck out in the mountains."

"We didn't do that on purpose."

"I don't want to wash the plate. Get the newspaper, then."

Walter gathered a few newspapers from the recycling bag and brought them over, dumping the blue, yellow, and red paint into three distinct splotches.

"More colors," Amber said. "More colors?"

"We don't need more colors," Paige said. "We can make the colors."

"See, Ambie, these are the primary colors," Walter said. "You can make other colors from them. Like orange. And purple. And green."

"Walter, she's too young to understand that."

"I'm sorry, can I parent?" He snapped. They stared at each other in silence. He sighed. "Sorry."

Paige sighed too, sliding into the seat next to Amber.

"Here," he said, ignoring her. "Look. See this? Red. Yellow." He took some red on his pointer finger and yellow on his thumb, then rubbed them together. "See? Orange!"

Amber put her whole hand in the red.

"No, Amber," Walter said. "Actually, no, okay, now take your other hand and put it in the blue."

Amber stared at him. Paige tapped in front of the blue paint. "Put the clean hand in this one." When Amber did, Paige smiled. "Now do this!" She vigorously rubbed her palms together. Amber mimicked her. Paige gasped, putting her hands to her cheeks. "Wow, purple!"

"Puple!" Amber said with a grin, putting her hands against her face like her mother had done.

"Oh," Paige gasped when she realized what she'd done. "Amber, your face is all a mess."

Amber put her hands down on the paper in front of her.

"Now lift them up!" Walter said, raising his own hands in demonstration.

Amber did, and squealed with delight at her two purple hand prints on the paper, with hints of blue on the edge of one hand and red on the edge of the other.


	21. Chapter 21

The atmosphere in the garage, on their first real day back at work, was odd. Florence was given the day off so she could go to the hospital, so in many ways, it felt like the old team again; Cabe's absence prevented that nostalgia from truly coming through.

"I know he's enjoying retirement," Happy said, "and I know he still helps us from time to time. But a day like this just sort of reminds me how much I liked having the old timer around."

Sylvester came down from the loft. "Where did Toby go?"

"Going to get the kids from day care. He should be back any minute." Happy cocked her head. "I'm a terrible person and forgot to ask earlier. How's little Tilly?"

"Hanging in there," Sylvester said. "She's trying to open her eyes, but just gets them the tiniest bit open and then closes them again. Might be due to the light. I've heard of preemies going blind from the incubator. Florence worries that we won't have the skills necessary to be the parents she deserves."

"You guys will do great," Paige said. "Most folks find a way to be what their children need. And the  _want_  to do so is often half the battle."

"I know. Florence is just so worried about it. She keeps coming up with every little thing that could go wrong and convinces herself that that's going to happen to us. You should have seen how she reacted to the flowers everyone sent. I'm torn between worrying about her and thinking I'm somehow not reacting properly to everything."

"Everyone reacts to stressful situations in their own way," Paige said. "You know that. And one way you've always managed to be strong is knowing that your strength would help someone else. But…" she touched his shoulder. "If you ever need to break, come over. We'll be there for you, and you won't have to worry about upsetting her. Right, Walter?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from his desk, and seemed to interpret the tone of the conversation correctly. "Yes. Of course, Sly."

Sylvester gave a small smile. "Thanks, Paige. And Walter. I appreciate it."

The garage door creaked open, and the two Quinn – Curtis children raced in ahead of their father. "Uncle Sylvester!" Tad said, running right past Happy. "How is Tilly?"

Happy smiled.

So did Sylvester. "She's doing well, Tad, thank you so much for asking."

"Boss?" Toby said. "There's a big ass box just got dropped off. It has a bunch of 'this end up' and 'do not throw' type stickers on it. Are you expecting anything or is this definitely a bomb?"

"Toby, let's not be dramatic," Paige said. The team followed her and they circled the package. It was big, tall, and had a lid on the top which had small holes in it. "I don't think this was delivered through the mail."

"Oh boy, now I'm thinking it actually is a bomb," Sylvester said anxiously.

"I'm sure it's not a bomb, Sly," Happy said, motioning to Tad and Ellie to stay back.

"That gesture just now did not help convince me."

"Hello! I'm a present."

The team jumped backward. "Did the box just talk?" Happy said. "Or am I just going crazy?"

Walter was staring at the package, his brow furrowed.

"Walt?" Toby said, waving his arm in front of his friend's face. "Earth to Walt. I think he's buffering."

"Hmm?" Walter said, jolting out of wherever he'd been in his mind.

Toby rolled his eyes. "The box is addressed to you, are you going to open it?"

"Technically…"

Happy rolled her eyes. "Don't technically us. Your name is on it, it being left at the garage doesn't change that. Stop being a wuss and open the box."

"Stop being a wuss!" Ellie said, trying to mimic her mother's tone.

"It sounds like a toy," Paige said, bending over the box.

"Watch this be some scheme from a competitor, a way to rub in our faces how advanced they are," Walter mumbled.

"By sending a talking toy?" Toby asked.

Walter shifted. "I don't know. It's possible."

"It's from Mr. Yates," Paige said. "I'm sure it's not a flex."

"A flex?"

"It's what the kids are saying these days, Walt," Toby said. "Keep up."

"Think of it this way," Tad piped up. "It says it's a present, not a bomb."

"Well, isn't "I'm a bomb" the last thing you'd expect a bomb to say?" Toby asked, raising an eyebrow at his son.

Tad looked at him as if he'd just solved all the mysteries in the universe. "Good point, Dad."

Rolling her eyes, Paige lifted the top off of the box and immediately jumped back in surprise. "Oh!"

The team peeked into the box in such a way that the creature inside would have seen each of their foreheads and eyes.

"It's a bird."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Happy glared at Walter. "You said it could have been a toy."

"Hello!" The bird said. "I'm a present!"

"Ooooh, boy," Sylvester said, backing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. "It talks."

Toby lifted the cage out of the box, handing the papers inside to Paige. "Our first pet since Ferret Bueller! This is a special day." He set the cage on the table and grinned.

"Is this bird legal to own?" Paige asked.

"Sadly, yes," said Sylvester. "The only illegal bird in California is the Quaker Parrot, or Monk Parrot."

"Why sadly?" Tad asked.

"I don't like birds," Sylvester said. "You know that."

"He didn't mean that," Toby said, reaching into the cage to pat the bird on the head. It pecked at him. "Whoa, sorry. I was just trying to tell you that Sylvester loves you."

"I absolutely do n – "

"Sylvester loves you," Toby said loudly, bending to be face to face with the bird as he repeated more slowly. "Sylvester loves you – hey!" He jumped back as the bird stretched up toward him. "I don't think he likes me."

"What are we going to name him?" Tad asked, his arms around Ellie's shoulders to prevent her from getting too close.

"Birdie," she said with a grin.

"Let's think of something a little more creative," Tad said.

"How about we name it Get That Thing Out Of Here?" Sylvester asked. "Who sends a bird as a 'sorry your plane crashed' gift anyway? Like is there some sort of dark humor in that? Oh, this thing's wings are clipped, it can't fly, oh haha, neither can your plane."

"I don't think that's what he was going for, Sly," Paige said. "He just…gives extravagant gifts. I guess."

"Maybe the bird was meant for Thomas Beek," Toby said, nudging Happy.

"I hope not," she said. "Though I do like the idea of him getting a giant scorpion delivered today."

"No, a small one, they're more dangerous."

"Hello. I'm a present."

"Yes," Paige said. "Yes, you are a present."

"Is it just me," Sylvester said, "or did that last one have more attitude to it? Like we're doing this whole bickering thing, and  _hello_ , he's a present."

"So you're saying we should appreciate and enjoy the bird?"

"No, I'm saying that makes it even more terrifying because it can read rooms and adjust its tone accordingly. Get rid of it."

"Aww, Sly," Paige said. She leaned over the cage. The bird cocked its head to see her. "That's Sylvester," she said, throwing her brother in law a playful smirk before turning back to the bird. "Sylvester loooooves you."

"Why don't we name it Sylvester?" Toby asked jokingly.

"Do not name it Sylvester." He said, folding his arms.

"What are you going to do if Tilly is scared of a bird?" Toby asked. "Hide behind her? Come make friends with Other Sylvester."

"No, Toby," Walter said. "We shouldn't name the bird Sylvester."

"Thank you, Walter," Sylvester said.

Walter snapped his fingers. "The bird's name is Super Fun Guy."

Sylvester groaned.


	22. Chapter 22

_How did your visit with Tilly go? She doing well?_

It was a simple question. Well, two related questions. Both could, when stripped down, be questions with very simple answers. Yet Florence wasn't really sure how to respond.

She hadn't gone to the hospital that morning, as she was supposed to have, just like she hadn't gone the previous week, the week that bird had shown up out of the blue announcing that he was a gift. Whenever she thought about getting dressed, getting into her car and driving to the hospital, navigating those hallways and avoiding eye contact with anyone, all her body wanted to do was sleep for a week. The idea that something could be happening to her daughter without her knowing made Florence so anxious she threw up nearly all her meals, but the thought of being there when something happened somehow seemed worse. She would break down again. She was barely holding it together as it was.

_She is doing just fine._

She hoped that the lie by omission would be enough to fool the mechanic. After all, it was Toby who would be most likely to be in tune with something like that. With any luck, Happy would verbally relay the message to him, not show the text.

But they were off in Sacramento with their kids, making a short vacation out of Toby speaking at a conference. So he might even be the one to originally see the message.

She was too tired to think about how to reply if he questioned her.

Another text came through:

_You home?_

She tapped one of the suggested replies.  _Yes._

_Then open the door. I've been knocking._

She felt like gravity was actively out to get her, preventing her from standing up, but eventually, Florence managed. She unlocked the deadbolt, twisted the knob, and gave it a half hearted push.

Walter opened the door the rest of the way. "I just came from the hospital."

"Why?"

"Was driving by. And I'd said I would check in on Tilly for you."

"Oh. Thank you?" She couldn't remember asking him to do that. But she must have. Florence squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping that would help clear her head. "Come in."

Walter smiled as he entered the living room. "How are you? Are you okay?"

Florence shrugged. "I don't know."

"Is there anything you need? Any way I can be there for you?"

"I don't know."

Walter nodded. "I understand."

"Glad you do. Because I sure as heck don't."

"I suppose this is the part where I apologize."

Florence shrugged, dropping back down on the couch.

"Where's your husband?"

"With your wife. They're…" she frowned. "They're pitching Scorpion for a job. I don't remember which."

"Right." Walter nodded. "I forgot that was today. It sort of runs together, huh?"

"Tell me about it."

"I'm no Toby," Walter said, "But It probably isn't good for you to be inside all the time. You should, I don't know. Get out. Go for a hike. Like we used to."

She cocked her head. "We've never done that."

"We haven't?" He stared at her. He looked so genuinely puzzled that it almost made Florence uncomfortable. Then he shook his head. "Huh. Okay. Well, still. Getting out. That can help. With…stuff. Sunshine and fresh air, you know."

Florence folded her arms. "You and I both hole up inside and work on things when we need distractions. Sunshine and fresh air? Why are you being weird?"

"Paige is rubbing off on me, I suppose," he said with a chuckle. "Though there is something to be said for the Vitamin D."

"I guess." Florence looked at her phone. Sylvester should be home in an hour or two. She wished she could turn time forward, like that dog in the Disney movie about all the puppies.

They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Walter left. She realized several minutes after the door clicked behind him that he was the first person in weeks to wonder how  _she_  was, instead of just asking about Tilly.

* * *

Paige was delighted by three things.

Firstly, Tilly was doing well. She'd asked Walter how the baby was as soon as they sat down to dinner, when he'd mentioned that he'd been by the hospital. "She's far from out of the woods. But they don't have any complaints, according to the records I hacked."

Secondly, Amber had gone to the aquarium that day with Cabe and Allie while she and Sylvester were in their meetings, and the toddler had passed right out after their meal.

Which led to the third thing. Her and Walter alone in their bedroom.

"It's been a while since it's been this quiet around here," she commented, pulling her hair out of its ponytail.

Walter was laying under the top sheet. "My brain is rarely quiet," he said, "but the outside noise is much reduced, I can agree with you on that."

"Why don't I see if I can quiet your brain down?" Paige grinned as she straddled him, her hands running up through his hair and then sliding down to his neck as she put her lips on his. "God, it's been too long," she moaned at the feel of his hands on her hips. She moved her lips to his neck, her tongue dancing along the spots that she'd been a fan of ever since discovering them. She moved back to his lips, torn between wanting hours of foreplay and just wanting him inside her, now, making her eyes roll back in her head and jumbling her thoughts so she couldn't worry about anything even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. She just wanted her husband.

She undid the buttons on his shirt, sliding her hands over his chest. His hands were still on her hips. She pulled back slightly. "You okay, Walt?"

"Of course I'm okay," he said. "I'm with you."

She frowned. "You just seem a little…" she made a motion up above their heads. "When you're usually…" she gestured back and forth between them.

"No. No, not at all. I'm right here." He flexed his fingers. "I'm just a little dizzy."

"Not in the good way, I'm assuming. Did you forget to eat today?"

"No. I ate." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm here. What would you like?"

"Are you offering me some kind of sex menu?"

"If that's what you'd like?"

Paige groaned, swinging her leg back over so she was kneeling on the bed next to him. "I'm not interested if you're not into it."

"No, no, I am." He pulled his boxers tighter around him. "See?"

"You and I both know that a body responding to stimuli doesn't mean the person is into something," Paige said. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid."

"I'm not treating you like you're stupid."

"It sounds like you are."

"Me saying I'm not doing something sounds like I actually am?"

"Okay. Fine. But be honest. Don't do this  _it's all good_ crap. Just admit you don't want to have sex with me."

"Well, I don't really want to  _now._ " He said. "Why are you taking this personally?"

She sighed. "Fine. I shouldn't."  _It's just been a while. Why don't you want me?_  She didn't say either of those things out loud. They were a guilt trip. They weren't fair. But she still felt them.

"It's been a long few weeks," Walter said. "I'm tired. A lot is on my mind. That's all."

 _This used to be how we got what was bothering us out of our heads._  "Okay."

"But if you need…I'm not saying no, Paige."

"I don't want to use you like that."

"I'm consenting."

"It's not the same."

She meant that it wasn't the same feeling to sleep with him when she knew he wasn't as ravenous for her as she was for him. But as she lay on top of the covers, listening as his breathing slowly shifted into the lazy rhythm it held when he slept, she realized she felt that way about more than just sex.


	23. Chapter 23

"Remember. If anyone reacts to me showing up, I'm leaving and I'm never coming back."

"Lori," Sylvester said, smiling affectionately. "They're going to be happy to see you."

"I'm just their coworker. A coworker showing up to work isn't cause for celebration."

"Just hold my hand, okay?"

She did. He pushed open the door to the garage, taking a step forward that was met with slight resistance, hesitation, from his wife. He knew she was anxious – he understood. She had seen all of them since they got back from…the East Coast? Colorado? What was, technically, their previous location?

Regardless. She hadn't been back to work. Not officially. But Tilly was a month old, and she was still being cared for around the clock in the NICU. Florence was spending most of her time sleeping or worrying, and Sylvester had been relieved when she'd agreed to come into work to take her mind off things. "I think you'll feel better once you have a Bunsen burner in front of you."

Florence had smiled at that. And now, despite the hesitation, she followed Sylvester into the garage.

"Hey Flo," Happy said with a smile, looking over at them from her work station. Almost immediately, she clapped a hand over her face. "Wow. I fucked that up really quickly."

Florence smiled. "It's fine. Hi, Happy."

Toby looked up from his desk, which was piled with books. Sylvester assumed they were related to the conference he had just gone to. He gave a casual wave. Sylvester was glad that their friend seemed to sense that Florence didn't want a party.

"Is this…Super Fun Guy?" Florence asked, cocking her head and staring at the large cage – as if there would be any other large bird perched in the middle of the garage.

"It is," Sylvester said. "Don't worry. I'm working on getting rid of it."

"Super Fun Guy is not an 'it'," Toby said.

"Fine. I'll rephrase." Sylvester cleared his throat. "Seriously though, what is up with the bird? Mr. Yates owes us an explanation for forcing that…creature…among us."

"Don't be hating on the bird," Toby said. He leaned over toward Super Fun Guy. "Sylvester loves you. Don't forget it."

The bird mumbled something.

"See? He doesn't know what he's doing here either."

Toby rolled his eyes. "That's not what he was saying."

"How do you know what he's saying?"

"Maybe he's saying he  _luves_  you."

"Or he's saying that Mr. Yates sent him to test us."

"Test what, exactly?"

Sylvester shrugged. "I don't know. It isn't like he went easy on any of us at the stupid meeting."

"In his defense," Happy said, "the decision isn't one he is making lightly."

"Speaking of Mr. Yates," Paige said, coming down the stairs with Amber in one arm and her phone in her opposite hand, "as I'm assuming, we  _are_  currently speaking of Mr. Yates…" she reached the bottom of the stairs and put Amber down. "I spoke with him on the phone again. He claims he just felt bad about how everything happened and wanted to get us a gift. He just has…odd ideas for gifts…I guess. And he is annoyingly amused at our lack of belief in his explanation. Which leads me to think he is actually telling the truth." Her eyes landed on Florence. "Hey there, Florence! How is Tilly?"

"Fine," she said. "She's reached the age where the odds for babies are good when they're born at that point, so…" she shrugged. "I know getting one's hopes up is a setup for finding yourself so deep in despair, you just want to swim down. But…" she shrugged. "I mean…"

"Supah Fun Guy! Supah Fun Guy!" Amber was jumping up and down in front of the cage.

"We're coping," Sylvester said, putting his arm around Florence, ignoring the toddler's delighted giggles when the bird lowered his head to look at her. "It's hard to hope while trying to protect yourself at the same time." Florence nodded. Sylvester kissed her temple.

"Are there…" Florence cleared her throat, her hand tightening around Sylvester's. "Are there any updates on the cause of our plane crash?"

Sylvester was surprised she got the sentence out without her throat catching, but then he felt her shudder next to him, betraying the effort it had taken her to speak calmly."

"These things take time, as you know. If it turns out this somehow was someone else's drone…it isn't a good look for us, to have then falsely accused the competition." Paige sighed. "And even if the drone is one of our competitors' we have to determine, well, they have to determine, the committee, if it was done on purpose, and if they knew it was our plane. At this point, Mr. Yates can't make his decision until this is sorted out. It'll take some time, but every day is moving forward."

Florence tensed up beside Sylvester. He looked at her curiously. He noticed that Toby was regarding her in a similar way.  _We all just want you to feel better, my love. We just want you out of this funk and back to feeling like yourself._

"Supah Fun Guy! Supah Fun Guy!"

The voice wasn't Amber's. The adults looked over at the cage. Amber was still jumping up and down; the bird was bobbing his head in an attempt to mimic the action. "Supah Fun Guy!" He chirped. Amber giggled.

Paige was smiling as she shook her head. "What a pair those two will be."

"I ship it," Toby said, opening a bag of chips.

"Florence," Happy said, clearing her throat after a period of silence from the adults. "I'm having some difficulty with this product I'm trying to apply. It's not a rush job, so there's a bit of time, but since you're here, I was wondering if you could look and see if there's some way to improve it."

Florence let go of Sylvester's hand, rubbing her palms together slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."


	24. Chapter 24

"Ma'am?"

Florence jumped as she realized the woman behind the desk was speaking to her. She cleared her throat. "Yes. Um. I'm here for…for visiting…NICU visiting, I'm…" she shook her head, trying to clear it enough to speak. "Florence Tipton – Dodd," she said. "I'm Florence Tipton – Dodd."

"Ah, Mrs. Tipton. Tilly's mother."

"Yes." Her throat was dry.

"Wait right here, and I'll bring Jessie up to take you to see her. Your husband and brother have been quite the regulars around here."

It really, really felt like this receptionist –  _Elmer_ , the name tag said – was making a point about how Florence hadn't visited in weeks. She set her jaw. She didn't bother correcting him that Walter was not her brother, and was only barely her brother – in – law.

"Looks like Jessie is coming now," Elmer said. "She'll be happy to take you, Mrs. Tipton."

"Thank you. And it's Tipton – Dodd."

"Of course, Mrs. Tipton – Dodd. Jessie. This is Tilly's mother. Can you escort her back? I don't think she knows the way."

Florence was tired, but had a feeling that were she well rested the problem would not be coming up with something snarky to say back, but deciding which of the options that popped into her head would be best to use. She was slipping. Unprepared.

She followed Jessie down the hallway, past the place she'd had her meltdown weeks before. Another nurse –  _Annelise_ – stopped to say hi to Jessie. She said she was going on her break. "Hi there," she'd added to Florence.

"This is Tilly's mama," Jessie said.

Tilly's mama.

She felt some sort of emotion when Jessie called her that. She couldn't identify what that emotion was.

They continued walking, past a couple employees only doors, and to the small room that was assigned to her daughter. It wasn't as drab as she was expecting; there were some photos taped to the wall. She washed up, putting on the gown they provided. She was told she didn't need to wear gloves as long as she washed her hands if she touched anything else.

"I'll leave you with her for a few minutes," Jessie said after reminding Florence not to attempt to remove Tilly from where she lay. "You can touch her, though," she said. "We encourage that. And talk to her all you want, so she knows you're here."

"She probably doesn't know me," Florence said. "She wouldn't have been hearing me long."

"She can get to know you, though," Jessie said with an encouraging smile. "You're her mother. It will work out."

When she was gone, Florence stuck her fingers in through the side, lightly brushing the baby's foot. It was the first time she'd touched her – ever. She wondered how much Sylvester had. She wondered if Walter had. "I'm sorry, Tilly," she said. "I don't know how to be your mother."

It was more than not knowing how – she didn't  _feel_  like someone's mother, much less the mother of the little girl in front of her. She was supposed to have gotten bigger. She was supposed to feel somersaults, and be able to tell if it was Tilly's head or bottom against her ribs. She was supposed to have had a shower. She was supposed to sit awake with Sylvester, timing contractions, a mix of excited and scared. And then she was supposed to have had Tilly on her chest, right after birth, breaking down and crying under the emotion of knowing that the life before her was a combination of her and the man she loved. She was supposed to love her daughter more than she'd ever loved anything before.

She didn't feel that.

She felt something for the baby, that was for sure. An…affection, perhaps. That constant fear in the back of her mind that Tilly would never come home. But it was foggy, muted, in slow motion. It wasn't quite there.

Her phone buzzed. She checked it. It was Walter.

_How are you? Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?_

Another text quickly followed.

_Please don't hesitate to ask. It's what brothers are for._

She rolled her eyes. "Uncle Walter is being dramatic," she said to Tilly. "He's Sylvester's brother in law via his first marriage, but I don't think he would be mine since I'm sort of in the same role as his sister once was. I know he and Syl…" she blinked. "He and  _your father_  still consider themselves brothers, though." And she supposed she  _did_  just refer to him as  _Uncle Walter_ , so it's not like she disagreed with the dynamic. "We're kind of a weird family, Tilly. Scorpion is kind of a weird place. But it's  _our_  weird place, you know?"

She texted Walter back.  _With Tilly._

She almost put her hand back against the baby when she realized she'd touched her phone. She had to rewash her hands.  _Oh my God I could have killed her._ Was she being dramatic? Maybe. Maybe not. She couldn't tell anymore. She couldn't identify anything anymore.

She sat quietly in the chair, hands folded in her lap. Jessie popped in to say the doctor would stop by if she had any questions. Florence gave a polite smile. The questions she had were far too private to share with someone she barely knew.

* * *

They'd suggested she wait to be evaluated by a counselor. She was "behaving listlessly" when they came back into the room. Resources, they said. We have resources. Something like that. They told her to go down to this place, fill out a form, someone would speak with her.

"Over the last two weeks," she read quietly, "how often have you been bothered by any of the following problems?"

She read the list. Little interest or pleasure in doing things. Feeling down, depressed, hopeless. Difficulty getting to sleep, or sleeping too much. Blah, blah blah. The form said to put a check mark by your answer, but the options were numbers, for number of days. Wouldn't it make more sense to circle? But it said do a check. That didn't make sense. It wasn't efficient. It wasn't effective. It was messy and it felt like a trap.

Everything faded away. Vision, hearing, it blurred and dulled. Florence shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She'd lost her train of thought.

_So far away but still so near._ _  
_ _The lights come up, the music dies._

She hated music in places like this, as quiet as it was. It was supposed to be comforting, to help pass the time, she supposed the people at the desks would recognize the order in which the songs were played. Oh, I love this song, or oh, not this one again. Perhaps some were also sick of the music, same songs every day.

_But you don't see me standing here._ _  
_ _I just came to say goodbye._

Same song every day. She understood that.

She stood, ripped the evaluation in half, and had her hand over the trash bin when she froze. Trash was public property. Trash could be seized.

She shoved the torn paper in her pocket as she walked out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of the focus here is on Florence, but that's been what the premise of this fic has always been about – the case is related, but the focus is on how Scorpion reacts to what Florence and Sylvester are going through, and it wouldn't be a lengthy fic from me without the angst. Next chapter, more of what's been going on with Walter – bits of which was hinted at in here – and stuff will be coming to a head reeeeal soon, for multiple dynamics. Brace y'all selves for more emotions. There's a scene coming up that, once upon a time, has content I genuinely believed I would never write.


	25. Chapter 25

The photo on the nightstand, next to the one of Sylvester and Megan, was new. It showed Florence, with dark circles under her eyes and hair that had seen more care, Tilly in her arms with a sticker attached to the blanket that said, in an ugly cursive font,  _Mommy got to hold me for the first time._

Florence glanced at it, her gaze lingering for the briefest of moments, before turning toward her husband, running her hand through her hair. It was still damp from her earlier shower. For some reason, that annoyed her.

Sylvester was laying on their bed, tablet in hand, wearing a T – shirt she hadn't seen before. It was some sort of pink, maybe salmon color, with some superhero design on the front. Perhaps a comic book character. That wasn't important. What was important was she was married to the man wearing it. "You look good in that," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She smiled. "Yeah. That's a nice color on you."

He was looking curiously at her, and she found herself blushing, smirking back at him. His smirk gave her butterflies. It reminded her of the first time he'd kissed her, after the near disaster in Europe, when she'd admitted to him that her heart was racing.

Maybe the feeling she was feeling right now was a sign that she was finally getting better, shaking off whatever funk had been consuming her. Maybe finally getting to hold their daughter, just two days ago, had changed something in her, even though at the time she'd felt like a monster for not crying for joy. Or maybe she was just in love with the man in front of her and it was about time she felt normal again.

Florence crawled onto the bed, propping up on her hands as she leaned over him, smiling and bending to kiss him before bumping her nose affectionately against his. "I love you, Sylvester Dodd," she murmured, kissing him on the cheek and then on the mouth again. "I love you so much."

He kissed her back, a hand on the side of her face. Florence nestled in closer to him, taking a fistful of his shirt. They hadn't had sexual contact in the two weeks prior to Tilly's birth, nor in the two months since, and she knew it might take a little time to get her body going, but she was surprised at how little she was actually responding to her husband's touch. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted his arms around her, but…

Sylvester's hand slid to her hip, pulling her closer, and an action that should have sent a thrill through her instead made one thing clear to Florence:  _I don't want to do this._

She'd initiated, maybe she  _had_  wanted to at that point, but right now, she could think of several things she did want to do – sleep, bury herself in correcting the graduate essay on Mendeleev recently posted online, burn those pregnancy books with the extra thick chapters on the third trimester…she did not want to have sex with Sylvester. The thought of it made her feel unwell.

But she didn't stop kissing him. His hands were wandering, caressing her hips and the side of one of her breasts just in the ways she normally loved to be touched. His breathing was growing heavy, and he gave a quiet moan when she ran her hand over his chest, brushing one of his nipples through his shirt. She caught his upper lip between hers, sucking gently on it, and moved his hand over to cover her breast in the hope of reignite the twinge of desire she'd felt when she'd started this.

Sylvester, of course, took this as encouragement, because every other time before, that's exactly what it had been. He reached for the drawstring on his shorts. Florence thought she might throw up.

He muttered something about wanting her, it was quiet, it was meant to be romantic and in the past that's exactly how it was received. She debated just letting him, muttering back what he wanted to hear, because she'd initiated this and encouraged this and he was eager and they had gone too far to stop now and  _no they had not._

"Sly, I can't." She put hand on his chest as he attempted to pull her on top of him. She sat up, a hand over her mouth, her head spinning. "I'm sorry, I can't.

"What?"

He sounded angry, but she knew he wasn't. That was his confused voice, his baffled voice, his  _I have no idea what just happened_  voice. He wasn't angry, he wouldn't pressure her, but the tone made  _her_  angry anyway. "I said I  _can't_ , okay?"

"Okay." He bit his lip. "Is…is it something I did?"

"No. No. It's me. I promise. I just…" her voice cracked, and she put both hands over his face.

She felt the mattress shift, and then he was next to her, their legs dangling off the side of the bed. He slid an arm around her waist. "Did…did something hurt, or is it, like, mental?"

"I'm not mental just because I don't want to have sex with you," she snapped, feeling bad about the remark immediately. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you meant." She looked up at him, the tears flowing freely. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You probably have post – partum depression. You can see someone for it, you know."

"I don't want to see anyone. I can't trust people I don't know."

"Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"No. You're dealing with everything with Tilly too. You don't have to shoulder my load."

"We're married. That's part of it."

She got up. "I appreciate it, Sly, but I just want to…"

"What?"

"I don't know." She sighed, running her hand through her hair and making a frustrated sound upon realizing it was still damp. "I don't know anything."

"Just know that I love you. I'll be here for anything you need. Always."

Florence knew that statement shouldn't bother her. But it did. It bothered her a lot.

* * *

Walter was having a bad dream.

Paige could tell by the amount he was sweating, but when she sat up and leaned over him, using her phone for light, she saw tears leaking from his closed eyes. She knew better than to wake him up. He'd be disoriented, not know where he was, caught somewhere between his subconscious and reality.

He groaned, and the pained sound alarmed her. She scooted up behind him, rubbing his arm, and kissed his neck gently. "It's okay," she said quietly. "It's okay."

Walter seemed to be soothed, momentarily growing quiet, though his body was still trembling slightly. Then he groaned again, lurched forward, and staggered out of the bed, falling to his knees. He was out of the little light her phone could provide, but Paige heard the tell tale sound of vomiting.

"Walter," she said, crawling out of bed and walking up behind him, her hands on his back. "Walter, breathe."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not." She rubbed his shoulder. "Talk to me, Love."

"I'm dizzy. I'm…"

"Breathe," she said. "Let me get you some water."

"I…" His shoulders tensed up, and he gagged again.

"Walt," Paige said, "what did you dream about?"

"I don't…I don't remember. Something. Something bad. It was so…" He put a hand to his forehead.

"Do you have a headache?"

He nodded.

"You've had a lot of those recently."

"I'm  _fine_."

"I'm just saying…"

"You're just saying you know me better than me," he snapped.

Paige lifted her hands as if to surrender. "Whoa."

"Don't be condessssending," Walter said. "Con…condescending."

"I'm not. But you used to say I know you better than you do. You used to find it  _romantic_ , even. But now it's a problem? Why are you shutting me out?"

"The world has bigger problems, Paige. Tilly's fighting for her life, Megan's going through a lot, Sylvester…"

"Megan?" Paige frowned, an uneasy feeling creeping into her thoughts. Or rather, not creeping in. But circling. Ready to lunge. "Walter…you…you remember that your sister…?"

"What if Tilly was hers?" Walter turned to look at her, and she'd dropped her phone, causing the light to fade slowly upward, making Walter look like he was at camp, holding a flashlight under his chin while telling a ghost story. "If she'd…if things were different. Tilly would be hers."

"Tilly wouldn't be hers, Walter," Paige said. "If she ever had a child, it wouldn't have been Tilly. Tilly is Florence and Sylvester's child. You…"  _Oh boy._ "You know who Florence is?"

"Megan," Walter said, so quiet that Paige could almost not make it out. "Walt, are you confused? Are Florence and Megan…the same person to you?" It felt weird to say. But somehow, it made more sense to her than anything else. She suddenly remembered the day Tilly was born, when she'd thought that Walter had murmured  _leg_  in response to Florence's leg shaking. Paige suddenly realized that he might have said  _Meg_  instead.

And the hospital visits. Walter's insistence on sitting outside the hospital, watching the light from Tilly's room like her room was the East Egg dock. Walter's constant worry about Florence, wanting to be there for her, needing constant assurance that she was okay. He cared about her; she was one of their best friends, but this was more than that.

Paige had to ask the question, but the answer terrified her. "You…you do know that Florence isn't Megan, right?"

"She's Sylvester's wife," Walter said. "She was Sylvester's wife."

Is, was,  _do you know the difference_? The ten – year anniversary of her death was coming up. Of course Megan would be on his mind. She should have seen this coming, predicted it somehow, but she was so busy with Amber, with the benefactor…

"Walt, come back to bed," she said.

"I have to clean this up."

Right. The vomit. Paige wrinkled her nose. Somehow regurgitated fermented fish seemed like the more appealing of her current problems.


	26. Chapter 26

When Toby asked where Florence was, Sylvester stammered, spitting out random syllables before finally managing "visiting Tilly." It was a lie, but Toby wouldn't have any reason to believe it was. And it sounded a lot better than "laying on the couch with a blanket covering every inch of her saying she doesn't want to talk and to just go to work without me."

Toby raised an eyebrow at his response, but didn't question it. He was sitting on a stool in front of the bird cage, holding up a screwdriver.

"If you're planning on letting him out," Sylvester said, "might I suggest – and I really don't want to – just opening the door?"

"I'm trying to teach Super Fun Guy to bring Happy her tools." Toby said. "Which require teaching her about said tools. I've almost got him saying 'air impact wrench' which is pretty cool given how bird speech mimics – "

"A four – pound bird cannot carry a six pound Air Impact Wrench," Sylvester said. "You've seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but you shouldn't have had to to know that."

"I don't mean her big ass wrench," Toby said. "I mean like if she drops something, he can get it for her, or he can tell her where it went."

"That's big ambitions for something that's just squawking random crap most of the time it opens its beak."

"Are you going to stand for this verbal abuse?" Toby asked. The bird shifted its weight. "Sylvester loves you," Toby told it.

"I swear, you keep saying that and it's going to start repeating it."

"Oh no, you've figured out my plan." Toby spun on the stool. "Sly, is everything okay at home? I can tell by your hesitation that it's not. I can help, you know. This is kinda my area of expertise."

"We're coping. It's hard, yeah, but she – we – just need time."

"And it's okay to need more than just time."

"She isn't comfortable talking to someone who already knows us so well. I know that helps some people, but…she doesn't want to do that."

"Understandable. Some people are more comfortable talking to people not involved in their lives." Toby cocked his head. "She isn't doing that either, is she?"

"You know how she is. Counseling, therapy…it's not for her. She has to want to open up to someone."

"That is tied into wanting to get better, a lot of the time."

"She's just not there yet. Where are Walter and Paige?"

"Okay. I'm not going to push." Toby crossed his ankles. "Cabe was going to watch Amber, but he had to go to a meeting today in regards to our whole crashing incident. So they went to the aquarium with her. She's apparently in a 'colors' phase. Wants to know what color everything is. She's getting at the age where color names will start sticking with her, and she actually seems to be good at remembering that, which I'm sure is a relief to Walter since he's got her under such a microscope. That's something I'm sure you can relate to."

Sylvester could. Tilly was under a microscope too, a medical one, and not by choice. Everything she did and didn't do was measured up to everyone else her age, both other preemies as well as full term two month old children. Everything was percentiles, averages and above and below averages. His and Florence's daughter almost didn't feel like a living human, but some sort of experiment concocted in a lab. Sylvester was almost glad that Florence wasn't visiting the hospital much. He wasn't sure how she would take that. He wasn't even sure how  _he_  was taking it.

* * *

Walter remembered the first time he went to an aquarium with Megan. She'd lifted him up on her shoulders so he could see above the crowds of other kids. Standing in another aquarium, thirty four years and five thousands miles away from that memory, he felt some sort of nostalgic connection with his sister as he stood with his daughter on his shoulders, listening to her giggle and feeling her pull his hair as she watched the jellyfish. Paige stood beside him, her hands tucked into her back pockets, half watching the jellies and half taking in Amber's delight.

She wanted to walk by the time they left the aquarium, so Walter let her down and he and Paige each took one of her hands. When they approached a crack in the sidewalk, they lifted her up, as if she was soaring over it. It was something they'd started doing when she was first walking steadily on her own, without even discussing it. They'd just both had the same idea, and executed it flawlessly.

"Oh, look," Paige said, gesturing to a shop up ahead. "Does that say what I think it says?"

"Unless you have a parasite in your brain that impacts your ability to read, I'm sure you know it says 'ice cream shoppe.' Oh," he said when Paige gave him a look. "You were being, never mind, I got it."

Amber didn't notice the tense moment between her parents. Her eyes were lit up. "Ice cream?"

"I think we should have some, yeah, Dad?" Paige asked.

"I think so, Mama," Walter said. "What do you think, Amber?"

"Ice cream!" Amber jumped in place.

"I think we have an answer." Paige held the door as they walked inside.

"Hello!" The boy behind the counter had a very young face, but when he spoke, his voice was startlingly deep. "How are you folks today?"

"We're good, thanks," Paige said. "We just came from the aquarium."

"Oh, fun!"

"Which ice cream you want, Ambie?" Walter asked, gesturing to the photos of the flavors.

She pointed. "This one."

"How about this one over here?" He said. "That is pistachio. You wouldn't like that."

"Yes I would."

"No," Paige said. "You wouldn't, you don't like anything nutty. Try this one here, the vanilla, or the chocolate, or the mint. How about the mint? It's green like the pistachio."

"Green ice cream," Amber said, tapping her hand against the glass. She flattened her palm, dragging it across the display.

"Amber, no," Paige said, pulling her hand away. "I am so sorry," she said to the employee. "I used to be a waitress and I hated when kids smeared glass. I'll clean it up."

"No need," said the boy. "I've got it." He was smiling, but it was the Customer Service Smile. Paige knew that smile.

"Kid sized of the mint, please," Walter said. "Look at that, Ambie, that's all yours. Thank you," he said to the boy upon receiving the plastic cup. "Here, sweetheart."

"Green ice cream," Amber said, sticking her finger into it rather than using the spoon. "What is it?"

"It's ice cream, Amber," Paige said, handing money to the boy at the counter. "You eat it."

"No," Amber said. "Green, what is it?"

"Oh," Walter said. "It's mint. It's like that gum mommy chews, or that shaved candy that Toby had on his birthday cake."

"No!" Amber was suddenly upset, her face going red and her lower lip pouting out. " _What is it?_ "

"What is  _what_ , my sweet?" Paige asked. Amber started to cry. Walter scooped her up and began walking rapidly away from the ice cream counter. "Walter!" She power walked after them, catching the door as they scooted out into the street. "Where are you going?"

"She's making a scene," Walter said. "I'm removing her from the situation."

Paige could tell Amber was about to drop the ice cream, so she lunged forward, just barely catching it as it fell from the girl's tiny hands. "Amber," she said. "What do you want to know about? The ice cream?"

"No!" She said, tears freely flowing down her face as a wailing noise came from her mouth. "No!"

"Amber!" Walter set her down and held her at arm's length. " _What is your problem?_ "

"Walter! Don't snap at her."

"We have to figure out what the hell's wrong with her, don't we?"

"What the hell is  _wrong_  with her?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"It sounded like you did. You seem to be misunderstanding me a lot lately."

"You seem to be confusing a lot lately. Maybe we should talk to Toby – "

"We don't need to talk to Toby," he snapped. "We can manage our own family without Toby."

"You're right, we're doing a hell of a job. Exhibit A, this."

She scooped up Amber, walking authoritatively away from him.

"Where are  _you_  going?"

"Home," Paige snapped. "I think we've had enough fun for the day."

"We have to figure out what she meant," Walter said, running to catch up and then dropping into a power walk next to them. "We can't fix it if we don't know what got her upset."

"Well, jot that question down for when she learns to communicate better," Paige said. "Ask her what her problem is with Dora the Explorer too, while you're at it."

"You think you're some kind of expert at raising a kid because you raised Ralph by yourself and I didn't, don't you?"

"I'm not an expert," Paige said, "but I  _have_  done this before. By myself."

"So I've never parented a toddler before." He grabbed her elbow, and she stopped, turning to face him while rubbing Amber's back. "But you've never done it  _with_  someone, so we both have a lot to learn here. You don't get to overrule me with every decision just because you've done this before. In case you hadn't noticed, Ralph and Amber are incredibly different."

"What is  _that_  supposed to mean?"

"Why are you taking offense to that?"

"I already know you think she's stupid. Do you wish that she was some child prodigy like Ralph? She's not, Walt, and the sooner you get it through that battered skull of yours, the better off we'll all be."

"I love her. Her IQ is of no concern to me."

"I don't believe you."

He opened his mouth to snap back at her, but realized he had no clue what words to say. So he folded his arms, letting the silence linger. "You don't  _have_  to believe me," he finally said. "I know how I feel. You somehow still doubting me after all these years isn't a me issue."

"You're right. It's a  _we_  issue. Because last time I checked, we were married. But we haven't been acting like it. We've been acting like bitter exes."

"Amber deserves more than that."

" _That_  we can agree on." Paige's eyes were tired. "Can we just go home?"

Walter knew there was more. There were things they hadn't said. His head was spinning, his thoughts growing scrambled. There were things he wanted to say, but he couldn't articulate them. And he knew something was bothering her. She'd been looking at him differently the past few days, after he'd had a bad dream about something he couldn't place and had gotten sick on the floor of their bedroom. She wouldn't tell him what it was. He wondered what his bad dream was about.

He remembered the last time a dream had almost destroyed them.


	27. Chapter 27

" _Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow. All it takes is a rake and a hoe and a piece of fertile ground. Inch by inch, row by row…"_

"What are you singing, Taddy bear?" Toby asked.

The boy looked up from the play mat. "I'm singing a garden song to Ellie." He turned back to his sister, taking her hand and slowly swinging it. " _Inch by inch, row by row, someone bless these seeds I sow. Someone warm them from below, til the rain comes pouring down…_ "

"Where did he learn a song about gardening?" He asked Happy.

"Allie. I think. She likes those weird kiddie songs."

Toby bumped his hip against hers. "I think you like them too and are glad that our kids get to experience them."

"Stop psychoanalyzing me, or the sexting stops."

"Nothing to psychoanalyze here," Toby said. "Better?" His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it, then looked back to Happy with a smirk. "Nice."

She smirked back. "It's so rare the four of us just get to be  _home_. I never would have imagined just having days where we can just stand here and talk while the kids play."

"Well, I do wish we had better circumstances," Toby said. "Rather than going back to little jobs that are menial compared to what we have been doing. I know we have to do what we have to do while this investigation is going on, but I'm not used to being idle like this. If I didn't have you and Tad and Ellie…"

Happy put her hand over his. "Stop it."

"You know where I'd be. Don't pretend you don't."

Happy opened her mouth to say something, but Toby furrowed his brow suddenly and looked over to his son. "Taddy?"

"Yes, daddy?"

"That song says they want someone to warm up the garden from below the ground?"

" _Someone warm them from below til the rain comes pouring down_."

"I knew it." He snapped his fingers and looked at Happy. "That lady at that PTA meeting was right. They  _are_  slowly easing satan worship into schools."

Happy rolled her eyes.

Toby grinned back, jumping in surprise when his phone rang. "It's Walter," he said.

"Ugh," Happy said, "I don't want to be called out to a job today."

"Should I ignore him?"

Happy sighed. "I want to say yes, but no, answer it."

Toby squeezed her hand before putting the phone to his ear. "Go for the Tobes."

"Toby."

"Yeah, Walt. What's up?"

There was a silence. Toby cocked his head. "Walt?"

The silence lingered. He could hear Walter's breathing through the phone. Then the younger man spoke. "We need help.  _I_  need help."

* * *

"So…you're confusing your feelings for your sister and your feelings for Florence."

Walter nodded. "I mean, I don't…" he furrowed his brow. "Paige is the one that noticed it. I don't know that I see it. But I see the look in her eyes sometimes, and…she believes I do. And that concerns me."

"If we're being completely candid here, I've seen signs of it. I'm just trying to work on nosiness and butting in when I'm not asked. And it makes sense to a degree. She's filled the same basic role in Sylvester's life as Megan did. So now you're associating her with Megan, which with the current state of your brain, isn't a surprise."

"The current state of my brain?"

"You also alluded to personal issues with Paige. I'm assuming that includes both communication and your sex life. That and your disassociating, your headaches, and your frequent confusion, I think it's incredibly likely that you are suffering from some degree of a TBI – a traumatic brain injury."

"I know what TBI stands for."

"Okay. Not the takeaway here, but okay."

"I haven't injured myself recently."

Toby drew in a deep breath. "Walt, you know that they can worsen over time. You've had some terrible head injuries over the years. When you went over the cliff, when you fell down the stairs, and when we crashed in the mountains. I think maybe you hurt your head just enough this last time, the day Tilly was born, to have all of that start impacting your cognition."

Walter shook his head. "My brain is the best tool I have."

"Which is why it's important to monitor this. You're not going to die from it, at least, not probably. But it may affect your life long term. Any difficulties you are having now, you'll have to learn to adapt to them. And those affecting your marriage, well, Paige will have to adapt, too."

"She's been upset…insulted, I think. About our...intimate life."

"If you've injured your temporal lobe or hypothalamus, it can both increase or decrease your libido. Yours has decreased?"

"Maybe. I'm just…"

Toby could see his complexing tinging pink. "Walt, nothing leaves this room."

"I'm not as focused. Not as interested. We haven't…we haven't done anything in a while. She's frustrated. She thinks I'm not attracted to her anymore. That's wrong. I am, it's just…I can't get into it. I'm not enthusiastic. I want to be. But I'm always tired or confused."

"Focus and motivation issues are consistent with a brain injury. You experiencing any physical limitations?"

"Not in the way I think you mean. I  _can_ , she can just tell I'm not enthusiastic about it. So we don't. She can't really get into it if she doesn't believe I am. And we're fighting. We're snapping at each other. In public. In private. In front of Amber. I know she's upset that Ralph isn't checking in as much as he used to, but that's always been something we've coped with together. I miss him, too."

"I want to be able to blame all of that on your trauma. But to me that sounds a lot like your typical communication failure."

Walter frowned.

Toby shrugged. "I'm just calling it like I see it. It wouldn't be the first time you guys started bottling things up only to have it explode later. Just don't let it explode like it did in 2018. You have a kid now. You can't just walk out of each other's lives."

"I don't want to walk out of her life."

"I know you don't. Just don't let yourself fall back into that pattern."

Walter sighed. "How do we handle…the other thing?"

"Honestly, take advantage of the moments when you  _do_  want to do it. Talk to her. Tell her what I told you – or I can, if you'd like – and any moment you start thinking those thoughts, commit to it. Because your interest could go away like," he snapped his fingers, "that." His expression softened at the worry on Walter's face. "Walt, the day you guys got back together, I told Sly that I always knew you would, even the night you broke up. Because I know you guys. You're great together when you work at it. But when you don't talk, you crumble. Just tell her what I told you. She'll understand. And if she doesn't, she'll try until she does."

His voice was quiet. "I hope so."

* * *

Any fears Walter had evaporated the moment he saw the look on his wife's face when he gave her Toby's diagnosis. Everything else came spilling out, about how he  _was_  feeling extra protective of Florence, how he'd been hiding his confusion and dizziness and headaches like a wild animal hid sickness, and how he thought his lack of sexual interest was tied to whatever was happening in his brain. He didn't bring up what Toby said about communicating better. He felt it was better to  _show_  that instead.

"Oh, Love," she said, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand. "I didn't mean to be insensitive."

"You can react just as I can," he said. "I know you must have been confused. I know I've been angrier lately, less present. I want to get better at it. I want you to feel as loved and desired as you should."

"Don't worry about me," she said. "Let me take care of you, okay? You're hurt. Your healing, if that's possible, comes first. I'll talk to Toby tomorrow, find out what your limits are for work and stuff. Sexual stuff is officially on the back burner. Please don't push yourself. You could get hurt worse. And that wouldn't be good, because," she said, resting her forehead against his, "Amber and I kinda like you."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier, I alluded to writing a chapter that I never thought I would write, that I couldn't see myself ever sitting down and creating, that people who know me and how I feel about the dynamics in this show wouldn't believe I was writing if I had told them, that no matter how much a direction needed to be taken, that I of all people would never go.
> 
> This is that chapter.

Walter was acting strange around her. Even in her foggy state, Florence could tell. He kept glancing her way, and making a point to look away when she tried to make eye contact. When she asked him how he was doing on the code he was writing, his answer of "what? Nothing. I didn't do anything," was suspicious even to the most socially awkward genius in California. Paige too was sending her glances, as well as similar ones shot Walter's way. It made her uncomfortable. It was as if everyone else had a secret and she was the butt of a joke she didn't know existed.

It was either that or sympathy looks. She didn't like that idea, either.

Toby and Sylvester were in the loft – the former almost certainly trying to antagonize her husband with the bird. He was saying new phrases now, things the doctor had taught him. Florence supposed that meant Super Fun Guy was only going to get more annoying as time passed. But time, for her, was passing slowly. She supposed a plus side of that was it would be longer before the bird became unbearable.

 _Unbirdable_ , Toby would say. She hated herself for thinking of that.

It was nearer the end of the day, a day that dragged, a day that featured awkward questions about trips to the hospital that she'd never taken, when Walter pulled her aside after another glance between him and Paige that Florence was almost amused at, considering both the O'Briends seemed to believe that she hadn't seen said glance.

"I have to talk to you about something," he said.

Her anxiety spiked. That was never a good way to start a conversation. She attempted to inject some humor. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Last time you had to talk to me about something it got weird."

He smirked. It made her feel better. The smirk faded quickly. It made her feel worse. "Well," he said, "I suspect this is not something that will result in you falling in love with me."

"Hey," she said. "I was never  _in love_  wi – "

"The ten year anniversary is coming up," he said. "Of…of my sister. Her passing, rather."

Florence nodded.

"I'm sure you know that. Being Sylvester's wife."

"Yes."

"Well, here's…here's the thing." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It seems that my brain has been, uh, sort of… _confusing_  things. Since Megan was his wife and now you're his wife and you had Tilly in an anniversary year like this it seems I've sort of…started projecting feelings. The way I feel about Megan, to the way I feel about you. And Toby thinks that's why I've been so protective of Tilly."

"Because…you think she's Megan's child?"

"No. Not…not consciously. It's more of a…I've been hit on the head a few too many times."

"I'll say."

"I'm sorry. Paige just told me I had to tell you and apologize for the way I've been – "

"Walt, hey, no worries," she said. "Things have been intense lately. Stuff gets crossed and complicated."

"I thought you would think this subject uncomfortable," Walter said. "I appreciate – "

"Oh, it's definitely uncomfortable," she interjected. "But you're dealing with a lot. Paige mentioned your TBI. I'd be a jerk to give you a hard time about it."

"Well." He nodded. "Thank you. And I am sorry if I made you feel awkward or…if lines were crossed in my vigilance over you and Tilly. I will try to be more conscious of what's appropriate."

She smiled. "Thank you."

She hadn't thought Walter inappropriate. But it felt like an appropriate response to his apology.

"Walt?" Paige appeared in the door to the kitchen. "Amber is running a low grade fever…I don't mean to interrupt this, I know you were building up to it."

"No, we're finished," he said. He looked back at Florence. "Thank you. For being such a good friend." Looking back at Paige, he walked to her, offered his arm, and they disappeared around the corner.

By the time Florence wandered back into the common area, Toby seemed to have left, too. Sylvester was at his chalkboard, working on some math she knew she should recognize, but didn't. He smiled when he saw her. "Hey, wifey."

She gave a small smile. "What are you working on?"

"Just some stuff to keep my mind off things. I get jittery when I go a day without seeing Tilly."

She knew Sylvester wasn't making a jab at her. But it still felt like one. Florence pushed that feeling down. It didn't belong there.

"Walter seems to be going through a lot, too."

He nodded. "He told me about some of it. How he might not ever be back to where he was."

"He just told me some other stuff, too. I don't really know how to process it. I don't know if I can." She sighed. "It requires going back to our crash." She rolled her lower lip under her teeth. "So much would be different if not for that damn trip. But we got greedy. And competitive. We had to win."

"It's for the greater good."

"I know. But…" Florence started to cry. It was distressing to her how easily she could start crying now. "If we hadn't gone on that trip…if I hadn't jumped to go help afterward…"

"You can't do that." He pulled her close. "You'll eat yourself alive if you focus on the what ifs."

"But I am. I am focusing on them. I don't know how to stop it."

"I wish you would go talk to someone."

"I'm talking to  _you_."

"But I…" he trailed off. "Okay. Okay. You're talking to me."

"I feel so hopeless, Sly. Nothing makes me happy or excited, when all sorts of things used to. I haven't felt this way since…" She cleared her throat. "Since before you and I were together. And I…I don't even want to go see Tilly. The thought makes me tired. And then I feel guilty, and I want to cry, all over again."

"Don't ever feel guilty, Lori," he said, kissing the top of her head. She wanted to shudder, so overcome with emotion as she usually was, especially lately, when he held her. But this time, it was different. This time she was so acutely aware of how much she relied on him. Depended on him.  _Required_  him.

 _Sylvester Dodd's wife,_ they called her at the hospital.  _Tilly's mother._

Hell, apparently to some people she was frickin'  _Megan O'Brien._

She pulled away from her husband, leaning over and resting her arms and forehead on the table.

"It's okay," Sylvester said. She felt his fingers on her back. "Just breathe."

"Stop it," she said, straightening up, crossing the room to sit on the couch. "Just stop it."

"Okay." He was looking at her curiously. "What would you like me to do?" He tipped his head. "I know we're both going through this with our daughter. But I can't imagine what you're feeling. Just tell me what to do. I'll do it. You know you're everything to me, Lori." He watched her. "What do you want?"

She let out a long sigh, a heavy and pained one, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I want…"

Sylvester came and sat beside her. Their hands rested in the space between them, barely a centimeter apart.

"I want you to touch me."

He lifted his hand, ready to cover hers. With that action, she had an epiphany. A terrible one.

"But you can't."

Sylvester froze. "…I don't understand."

 _God, oh God._ Florence took in a long breath, steeling herself. "I don't remember much about being rescued, or what happened the first day I was in the hospital. But I remember everything else. Every detail of when she was born. How cold the floor felt. How uncomfortable it was. I was scared, and I was crying, and Paige had me and was trying to calm me down. Walter was holding my hand, and my pinky had crossed over my ring finger. The diamond cut into my skin. No one noticed. Not even me." Florence reached over to her bag, pulling it toward her across the coffee table. It felt heavy. It seemed like it took a year to get it within reach. She pulled her deodorant out of it. "Do you see this?" Sylvester nodded, appearing confused. She rotated it, so a darker colored mass stuck to the side was visible to him. "This deodorant has had gum stuck to it since our flight East." She paused. "It isn't my gum. And I don't even care." She dropped the deodorant back into her bag. She thought the cap came off. She didn't bother to check. "I should care. But I don't." Sylvester was looking at her bag with a slight feeling of disgust on his face. "Exactly," she said. "I've lost my ability to give a shit about that. And…" her heart felt like it was being squeezed. "That's not all I've lost." Her throat felt as tight as her heart. "I've lost  _me_ , Sylvester."

"You haven't lost you. You're in there. You just need to learn how to find you in there." He reached for her hand again, and it killed her to pull it away.  _You won't get this out if you let him touch you._  "Florence," he said, "things will improve with time. Scorpion is getting to the bottom of the crash. Tilly is getting closer each and every day to coming home. Ralph called Paige this morning. He may come visit soon. Things are looking up."

"Yes. Things are moving on. Things are looking up. For Scorpion. For Ralph. For Patty, probably. For you. Even for Tilly. But me?" She gave a subtle, almost not noticeable, shake of her head, and her words were almost too quiet to hear. "I've been lying on the floor of that plane for the past two months."

She saw his face change. She stumbled on. "I can still feel that diamond pressing into my skin. I can feel the vomit on my lips. I can feel myself fighting my own body. I'm tired and my head hurts and I think I'm going to die, and so is she. And in a way, I think I did die. I'm not me anymore. I'm your wife, or I'm Tilly's mother." She shook her head. "And that's all I can think about now whenever you hold me. I'm defined by you. By our relationship. People think of me and they think of you immediately, but they can think of you without thinking of me. I'm your everything – to – me before I'm anyone else."

"Lori. You're scaring me."

She stood up. "I don't think I can do this."

He stood, too, his face pale. "Do…do what?"

"This. Us." She wiped her eyes. "I can't be your everything – to – me. I can't be  _anything_  to you until I'm something to myself again. Until I'm Florence, before anyone else."

"I love you," he blurted, as if there were a million other things he wanted to say, but that one rushed to the forefront.

Her eyes were hot. Her heart almost couldn't beat, the constriction was so severe. She could barely get words out. "That's asking too much of me."

She had to go, had to get out, had to go  _somewhere_  that wasn't here. She turned on her heel, heading for the door. She heard Sylvester call out her name. He called out again when she didn't answer. This time, she stopped, standing facing the door, her back to him. He spoke again.

"Is our marriage over?"

She knew she was making that face people made when they ugly cried. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Please don't ask me that."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…I vanished.
> 
> When I wrote the last chapter, I was intending to let that one sit for a week or so, because it was very hard to write, harder to edit, and my heart was just so heavy about it. I never intended to be gone a month. Depression is fun. I also went on a little soul searching trip that was also fun, the non sarcastic kind of fun. But when it's the time of year when your seasonal depression starts dating your clinical depression…well, I'm sure some of you get it, and it's just too hard to explain to those of you that don't. Just take our word for it that it sucks. But enough about me, back to (some of) our favorite geniuses.

" _Then something new happened,_

_And turned my life around entirely,_

_Oh baby, you happened,_

_And look what happened to me."_

Ralph looked up from his laptop. "Daze, how much longer is this going to be going on? I only have another two hours to submit this code to the Initiative or they're going to go with Duncan. And I don't have to tell you again how much I hate Duncan."

"Ralph, my audition is in  _three days_."

Ralph tapped the tips of his index fingers together. "Okay, but you do see how two hours is much less than three days, right?"

She grabbed her water bottle and took a sip. "The Prom has been my dream show for, like, ever, and now that it's got a revival I  _finally_  have a shot and I'm running out of rehearsal time."

"Yes, I know, but again, two hours, three days…"

"I guess I could take a break. Maybe a joke break. Hey Ralph, why did the chicken cross the road?"

Ralph just raised his eyebrows.

"To get to the buzzkill's house," Daisy said.

"Do you mean buzzard? I don't get it."

She sighed, her bangs flying upward. "How about this one. Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

" _The chicken_."

Ralph rolled his eyes. "Ha – ha."

"How about this. You can code until Patty comes home. But then I want to run through it one more time for her."

"Patty is going to be home in less than twenty minutes."

"Well then, you'd better get cracking, huh?"

Truth be told, Ralph didn't want to 'get cracking.' He wanted to get this done, submitted, and over with, and then on to the next job, the pile of repairs that had to be done by the time the students got back from break. He wanted to finish, but only because he didn't know how  _not_  to work with computers. He was good at it. And once up on a time it was his favorite thing to do. Nowadays it felt more like going through the motions, a way to earn a paycheck, but it came so naturally to him that he usually didn't mind.

Tonight, however, he would put it off if he didn't have a deadline. He would close his laptop, stretch out on the couch, and watch Daisy Khan woo Patty Logan all over again with her best Alyssa Greene impression. Sometimes he thought back on the days when he had an intense crush on his best friend. That almost amused him now. He'd watched Patty fall in love, with Daisy and with herself, and there were no deeply repressed pangs of jealousy within him.

It was nice, to love one's friends like this. It was the kind of unconditional affection that movies and books rarely featured.

He didn't know why, but that thought made him suddenly miss his parents and sister. And those were pangs that  _were_  real and deeply felt.

* * *

"Aunt Paigey, who is Charlie Daniels?"

"He's a singer," Paige said. "Country, Bluegrass music."

"A singer?" Tad used the corner of an envelope he was holding to get dirt out from under one of his nails.

"He has a big song about the devil visiting Georgia," Toby said, continuing in an exaggerated accent. "He was lookin' furra soul to steal…"

"Cute," Paige said sarcastically. She shifted on the couch, uncrossing her left leg over her right and crossing the right leg over. "Your dad is making a mess of Charlie Daniels' most famous song, called  _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_."

"Georgia is a state," Tad said. "Did you know that?"

"I did. It's also a country."

"It's a state  _and_  a country?"

"No. There's a state called Georgia and a country called Georgia."

"Hang on," Toby said. "I'm pulling up the song on my phone. You'll see I did the accent perfectly."

"You did not."

"Is it a good song?" Tad asked. "Or is it overrun?"

"If you're trying to quote Mama, you mean overrated," Toby said. " _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_  features a boy who makes a deal with the devil and  _wins_. That's what the kids are calling, uh…" Toby snapped his fingers.

"Big Dick Energy," Walter said. "Though I'm not sure we should be using that phrase in front of the kid."

"You're the one who used it in front of the kid," Paige pointed out, gesturing with her head toward Tad.

"Yes! Right. Oops."

"Also the kids haven't said that since 2019," Paige said.

"Whatever." Walter shrugged. "Either way, you've completely misinterpreted that song."

"There's nothing to interpret," Paige said. "It's one of the most literal ballads."

Walter raised an eyebrow. "Pride is one of what the religious call the seven deadly sins. So is greed. The devil approaches Georgie – "

"Johnny."

"And he says hey, here's an idea, I have this golden fiddle, and I'll give it to you if you play better than me. But if I win, then I get your soul. And Georgie – "

"Johnny."

"His name isn't relevant to this story, Paige," Walter said. "But sure, Johnny is like hey, it might be a sin but I'm the best player ever so I'm going to take you up on this. Kind of like if someone said to me hey, let's computer program together and see who wins."

"So far it sounds like we're all interpreting the song the saaaame way, Walt," Toby said.

"Except that the battle was never really about fiddle skill. It was about if he would let his pride overcome him – which he admits when he says it might be a sin – in order to get the golden fiddle, the desire for which is the second deadly sin, greed. The true test for Johnny's soul was whether or not the battle would commence in the first place. He lost the second he agreed to participate."

Toby and Paige glanced at each other. Then Toby cocked his head, looking back at Walter. "When did you get so…song analyze-y?"

"I'm married to an artist at heart," he said. "Eventually the right side of the old think tank was going to start working."

"I told you he hit his head a few too many times," Paige joked, pressing her lips together because joking about it was not helping her as she hoped it would.

"You know, not to be self – centered here," Sylvester said from his seat in Walter and Paige's recliner, "but the whole point of this lunch was to make  _me_  feel better, and all that's happened is hacking security footage of Linda's speed dating event to see if my possibly soon to be ex wife is there and ruining one of the most well known songs in the country. And spending forty minutes to get Amber and Ellie down to nap, but I get that at least. Kids are going to kid."

"And Florence wasn't at the speed dating event," Toby said. "How does that not make you feel better?"

"I don't know." He shifted onto his side. "Maybe because it made me realize that the possibility existed. That we were looking because there was nothing to suggest she  _wouldn't_  be there."

"It's only been a week," Paige said. "She'll come around."

"She's checked into a hotel in Long Beach. We've been to Long Beach. What could she be doing in Long Beach that she can't do anywhere else?"

"Isn't that the city where competitive Duck Duck Goose was born?" Toby asked. "She did say she needs space to figure some things out. Maybe she's decided to be a jock after all."

"Aren't you supposed to be a therapist?" Sylvester said. "She's in trouble. She's lost herself; she's shutting people out, our marriage might be over and you aren't helping either of us."

Toby sighed. "I'm sorry, Sly. I'm trying to be more of a friend here, than a professional. To both of you. In the past my…clinical side has done more harm than good. Cabe has surveillance on Florence, you know he won't let her come to any harm. Eventually, she'll look for help and we'll all be there with resources for her. But you of all people know how she's rejecting others initiating that for her right now. And hey, bright side, she was at work yesterday."

"And she left after forty minutes of awkward silences while we worked on opposite sides of the room."

"But it's something."

"It's something," Sylvester repeated, quietly, as if he wasn't fully convinced. "Something."

"Aunt Paigey? Why is the devil guy writing to Scorpion?"

Paige rubbed her temples. "What, Tad?"

Tad handed her the envelope he'd had in his hands, one corner dented. "This letter is to Scorpion, from Charlie Daniels."

"Oh, oh," Paige said. "No, Tad, this isn't  _that_  Charlie Daniels. This is a different guy named Charlie Daniels. Like how there's a guy named Charlie Brown who works for a famous retired racehorse farm. Or how there's another Walter O'Brien who claims he caught a bad guy who hurt some people at the Boston Marathon, but that isn't your Uncle Walter. This Charlie Daniels is, oh god, he's this guy who has been looking into the accident with the plane we were in. He's affilia…he works with the science man with the money we were meeting with, do you remember that?"

Paige opened the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. She scanned the contents, then her eyes shot back up to the top to read more thoroughly.

A yelping sound rushed from her throat, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.


End file.
